Women Seeking Police
by davewriter
Summary: With Valerie Boston having made her choice, the rejected C.O.P.S., along with Bullseye, search for love on their own. They find it in the form of four widows and another divorcee. But the Crooks use this to complicate things as well. Sequel to Valerie.
1. Introducing The Women

Author's Note: Hello, C.O.P.S fans, it's me, davewriter, with yet another C.O.P.S. fanfic, like I promised. Now, along with the introductory of new characters, it also contains some of the original characters from the first story, "Valerie." I told everyone that I had a **SEQUEL** in mind, and here it is. If you have not read or finished reading "Valerie," please do not read this one until you've done so, as it may contain spoilers. I see no one has left a review for my last chapter in the first one. If you have, have a nice reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own C.O.P.S. or any of its characters (again, credit DIC Animation for this.) Cheryl Raleigh, Janice Dalhousie, Lorna Waters, Debra Janeway, Marilyn Hobbes, and of course, Valerie Boston, and their respected families and co-workers (except for the "borrowed" Elise O'Malley) are all from my mind, as is the story's plot. Also making a comeback will be my original C.O.P.S. member from "Valerie," Kevin "Blackbelt" Raines. And, as a caution, it may contain the same coarse language, violence and sexuality as the original.

* * *

**Women Seeking Police**

Chapter 1

In Pittsburgh, in late April of the year 2020, Cheryl Raleigh was driving to her sons' conjoined elementary and middle school for yet another emergency conference. She'd learned that her two sons, twelve-year-old Jacob and ten-year-old Brett, were fighting with the same schoolmate. She had mixed emotions. Part of her wanted to discipline her sons for fighting, but a bigger part of her understood the reason why they kept at it.

It had been seven months since her police officer husband was killed on duty, he and his partner brought down in a deadly shooting in a small restaurant, his partner escaping with bad injuries. Cheryl was distraught, but knew she had to remain strong for her children. Her daughter, Danielle – then fifteen, now sixteen – seemed all right, keeping busy with her schoolwork, activities and friends. Her sons, however, were both in emotional, grieving ruins. They were a lot closer to their father than their older sister had been, and Cheryl remembered boasting about these bonds. "They worship Wayne like he's a modern-day Jesus Christ," she told friends, "and are determined to be just like their Dad when they grow up."

Cheryl had a hard time driving because of these memories, and she made a sudden stop when she noticed a red light. She sighed harshly and pouted while waiting for the light to turn green.

"Let me guess, it's that goddamn Greg Levine," she muttered to herself.

It had always been Greg Levine, she knew. She'd heard about him shortly after her husband's funeral, when Jacob and Brett went back to school. He was in the school grade level below Jacob and above Brett. The first time she'd met their principal for a fighting incident, she'd learned that Greg had been calling her boys "bastards," and had been bullying them out of whatever he wanted, and beating them up regardless of whether they gave it to him or not. She later learned through her neighbors that Greg did this to any kid who had no father in the home, and worse, that both his parents encouraged this behavior. She knew it wasn't all _their_ fault, yet the school kept blaming them. She'd kept insisting that her sons not be suspended or expelled.

She found a space in visitor parking and walked quickly inside. In the principal's office, she found Jacob with a portion of his jet black hair torn out, the portion in his hand. She checked Brett's cocoa-colored hair. It was still in place. She looked at Greg sitting across for them, a tall, overweight kid of eleven with curly red hair and freckles, his parents standing next to him. All three boys had shiners on their eyes. The Levines were all smiling and grinning as if they were innocent.

Before she could say anything, the principal, Mr. Penney, started in, "Now, Mrs. Raleigh, before you say anything this time…"

But she was focused on her sons, pointing at Greg. "Let me guess, that's one been after you again with the 'bastard children' comments." Still pointing, she turned to Mr. Penney, "No, sir, I think you should finally listen to me. I want to know what you plan to do about this!"

"Well, Mrs. Raleigh," he replied, looking at Jacob and Brett, "I'm thinking of expelling these two for their role in the fisticuffs they've engaged in with Greg!"

"I have a better idea, sir!" Cheryl retorted. "How about you expel Greg for the constant use of the word 'bastard' to any kid growing up with a single mother? I'm sure Jacob and Brett aren't the only kids in this predicament. This is such bullshit, and I want it stopped now! My sons were only defending themselves when he wouldn't leave them alone."

"That's what we told him, Mom," Jacob told her.

"Quiet, Mister Raleigh!" Mr. Penney bellowed. "You're already in enough trouble!"

"Excuse me," Cheryl spat, "but the only kid here who should be in trouble here is sitting _across_ from Jacob and Brett! Greg Levine! He's the one bullying them and others, and yet all you seem to give him is a little slap on the hand and a warning. He needs to be expelled from this school for the rest of the year!" She focused on Mr. Levine. "And to you, that kid needs a smack on the ass for his behavior! And instead of grounding him, you're taking him to sporting events, and out to eat, and the mall, and rewarding him by having him accompany you on your business trip at spring break!"

"That's because your sons don't have a father in their lives," Mr. Levine said, "so Greg is obligated to call them bastard children. It's very important for kids to have an active, caring father, you know."

"Yeah, well maybe you overlooked the part of how active, caring fathers are supposed to _teach their kids right from wrong_!" Cheryl screamed. "You're obviously too much of a 'buddy parent.' My God, if you insist on being that, then at least you can use your wise words to tell him he shouldn't be doing that! At least that's what Wayne did with Jacob and Brett, letting them know what was right and wrong, and putting them in their rooms for an hour so they can think about their misbehaviors, and taking stuff away from them." She sniveled and started to sob, thinking about her husband again.

"Okay, obviously, the grief counseling Mr. Penney recommended hasn't been working," Mrs. Levine commented, "because you obviously haven't gotten oven your husband yet, and your boys are causing more trouble than what it's worth!" She turned to Mr. Penney and pointed at Jacob and Brett. "Sir, if those two need a father so bad, then I think both of them can find it in a boot camp instructor who'll get into their faces a lot."

"Fuck you!" Cheryl blasted. "If anyone needs boot camp, it's YOUR son! Or maybe he should be put in a foster home on a military base – I'm thinking Fort Bragg – while Child Services investigates YOU two!"

Then, in her rage, she began to smack Greg alongside his head, palm and backhand, back and forth. Mr. and Mrs. Levine grabbed her arms to restrain her, but she quickly freed herself, and continued smacking Greg. Moments later, she started pounding him on his head, and kept doing it until he cried.

"Cheryl Raleigh, you fucking little bitch!" Mrs. Levine screamed as she and her husband consoled their son.

Mr. Penney stood and glared at the angry mother. "Congratulations, Mrs. Raleigh," he said. "You just got your boys expelled for the rest of the year. In fact, maybe for life! They are not allowed to come back next year or the year after that, and so on!"

"Fine!" Cheryl yelled. "Then I'll take matters into my own hands! I'm making plans to move away from this town! It's been something I've been thinking about for several months now. I'll put up my house for sale, pack all my things and my kids, and get them away from this hostile environment!" She escorted Jacob and Brett from the office, and decided to bring them to her work for the rest of the day.

When they got home for dinner that day, Cheryl told Danielle of her plans. "I want us to be out by the end of July at the latest." Danielle shook her head and looked like she wanted to cry, but her mother grabbed her hand.

"I know you don't want to leave your friends, Dani," she said, "and it's an inconvenience for you to attend a new school with only two years left to go. But I just can't sit back and watch your brothers get taunted and bullied because your father is no longer with us."

"Just because Daddy's gone, it doesn't mean we should just move away to start fresh!" Danielle objected. "Where are we going to move to?"

"I'm thinking about Empire City," her mother replied. "It's a large place, and I know it's expensive, but I can probably advance in my career there. I can see about structured schools for you all. And there'll be lots of activities and sporting events for you guys to do, and lots of malls and shops for you to shop at, Danielle. And I hear they got lots of handsome police officers and firemen there; maybe I can find one to date."

Danielle, Jacob and Brett looked at their mother strangely.

"I know I'm putting myself at risk for déjà vu here," Cheryl said, "but I especially think that's a good idea for this family. Your father was wise and loving, but he was also firm and strict whenever you needed it, and it was his reputation as a caring policeman that taught you three respect, and kept you on the straight and narrow. Having someone with authority in your lives will keep you on that track."

Danielle looked reluctant, but finally said, "Oh, all right. But I'm going to miss all my friends – Emily and Paige and Brandie and Tiffany, even my boyfriend, Matt."

"If it will get Brett and me away from that spoiled bully, Greg Levine," Jacob said, "then I say let's go for it."

* * *

In mid-June of that year, Janice Dalhousie was sitting in a courtroom in Los Angeles. Her husband, LAPD Officer Cliff Dalhousie, was sitting across the room from her. It wasn't a murder trial, a gang sentencing or a drug bust case. Today, they were finalizing their divorce. 

Cliff and Janice had three sons together, fifteen-year-old Roderick, thirteen-year-old Rydell, and ten-year-old Regan. It was Regan they were getting divorced over, because they could never agree over what was best for him.

She knew going into her relationship with Cliff that law enforcement was a long-standing tradition in the Dalhousie family. She was willing to accept this with Roderick and Rydell, who were all born healthy, and had lots of physical abilities. However, something terrible happened in her final pregnancy, (Janice still couldn't figure that out) and Regan was born premature, diagnosed with cerebral palsy at birth. She could remember the doctor's solemn message for them: "Officer and Mrs. Dalhousie, you can just forget about this one becoming a police officer." Regan couldn't run very fast or long distances without getting tired, or do much heavy lifting, like his brothers could. And he couldn't really use the left side of his body, other than his leg.

Janice's family had law enforcement as family tradition as well; her father and uncles were all policemen, as were all her brothers. She and all of her sisters, except for one who became an officer herself, married policemen. When Janice told them the heartbreaking news, they fully understood that law enforcement was not an option for Regan. Cliff and his family, however, would not accept this.

He would have the boy participating in sports that he couldn't handle, like football and baseball, even a hard obstacle course he built for all the boys. He would always scream after him to run faster, and hired all kinds of specialists to help with memory and observing skills. Not much worked, especially when the parents were told that Regan would have a hard time with advanced mathematics, and harder subjects like history and law, when he got older. Janice and Cliff's fights would always be the same.

"Why are you pushing Regan to be a cop when you know he can never be one?" she'd ask him.

"Don't contradict me, Janice!" he'd shout back. "Just because Regan has cerebral palsy, it doesn't mean he can't follow tradition! There are lots of opportunities for people with disabilities to get into law enforcement."

"Yeah, people in wheelchairs who have upper physical strength in their arms," Janice replied. "Which Regan will never have with his condition. The best he'll do in that area is a secretary with a computer! And I just know you'd expect more than that from Rod and Rydell!"

"Dammit, Janice, you are such a lazy parent with him!" Cliff exploded. "Regan can be a cop with an illustrious career, and he will, and you know that damn well! You're just not pushing him hard enough! And you come from a family of cops, too! You guys should be _helping_ me with this!" It would make her feel defeated every time.

Janice was lucky that Regan's disabilities didn't affect his reading skills. As a literary agent working with lots of author clients and publishing houses, she made sure that all her sons were well read. She'd read to Regan most often, because his skills took longer to develop. By the time he was almost seven, Regan began to fill notebooks with little stories, and some illustrations as well. She said on the witness stand in her divorce, "He loves writing stories. When his Language Arts class would assign him to write a story on anything, any length, Regan would jump at the chance. He'd even write personal stuff at home, but I told him to save that for when he's finished his homework." Janice would read them, and she thought they were so good, she thought writing would be perfect for him. But Cliff called it down all the time, and even started punishing Regan whenever he saw him writing instead of doing his schoolwork or exercises.

"More often than not, Cliff would be wearing his police uniform with all his weapons, like he usually did around the house when he got home from work. He would take his nightstick from his holster, grab Regan before he could run, bare his rear and whack him with the weapon. He would also do this whenever Regan told him, 'Daddy, I don't want to be a cop!' 'I can't be a cop!' I'd try to stop him, but he wouldn't let me, insisting he was trying to discipline our son. It would only work temporarily, until I could comfort him.

"Time and time again, he talked about throwing away all the notebooks with all the stories Regan wrote, but I would never let him. It got to the point where my son had to give the notebooks to me, and I'd put them in a special hiding place no one else in the family knew about." She entered the notebooks as an exhibit for the judge.

"Has your husband ever accused you of living vicariously though your son?' her lawyer asked.

"He would on occasion when Regan first started," Janice said, "but as he grew a little older, he started accusing me of this more and more, every time we argued. I'm a very avid reader of various kinds of books, fiction and non-fiction – always have been, even in high school – and a very fluent writer of business correspondence, rejection and acceptance letters, agency book contracts and that. But my creative writing professor said my brains lacked imagination when I kept handing in work, same criticism I got in high school. I may have signed up for English Lit at UCLA, but I never wrote a story that got me a scholarship. And my skills never improved, so that's when I knew I had to give up. But I read Regan's stories, and l know they have the power to entertain the reader. Just ask his teachers. That's why I'm encouraging him."

When she was cross-examined, Cliff's lawyer asked her, "Mrs. Dalhousie, what do you have to say about your husband's belief that you're living your dreams through Regan?"

"Utter garbage!" Janice replied. "Yes, I realized that I don't have what it takes to be a great novelist. That's why I decided to sit on the other side of the desk in the publishing business. Or, at least help clients get their work to the publishing house to begin with. That's why English-minded people like me get into the game in the first place. Not all of us can be a modern-day Charles Dickens or John Steinbeck or Margaret Mitchell."

"Then, why are encouraging Regan to become a writer?" the lawyer asked.

"I encourage you to read his writing," Janice replied. "He has plotlines of forest animals guiding lost children to find their way home, and elves who are geniuses, and stuff like that. I'm sure children will be delighted to read about those one day."

"Right," the lawyer said sarcastically. "You were so caught up in your belief that Regan can't be much else than that when he grows up, not even a cop, that you told him that he had to follow in your so-called 'English-minded' footsteps. You were convinced he'd be too stupid to learn subjects like Math and Law in high school, and this is the sole reason why! Is this true?"

"Absolutely not!" Janice shouted. "Yes, the doctors told us that his smarts in Math and Science would never go beyond the basics, he'd never be able to do science fair projects, and that subjects like History and Law would be difficult for him come high school. But I was encouraging him to be a writer because I know Regan possesses the talents, totally unlike his brothers. Cliff and his family just could never understand this."

Cliff would always defend his actions on the witness stand. First, he accused Janice of pressuring Regan herself. "I think Janice _is_ trying to live vicariously through the boy," he told his lawyer. "It's true, when we were dating in college, Janice talked obsessively about become a literary novelist. She scored very high marks in English literature, but her creative writing projects were mediocre, at best. Of course, when she read to me, I always told her they were good, or point out some things I'd change in the story. When it came to constructive criticism, she preferred to be let down easy.

"She managed to find work at a literary agency after graduation, the same one she worked at her whole career. She continued to write fiction on the side, but even they would reject her work. She was easily persuaded to give up her dream, and try judging which work to accept, this after Roderick turned two. Roderick and Rydell never had good story writing skills, they simply have no imaginations, and through all of Janice's lectures, this didn't really sink in for her until they were ten and eight, respectively. So she simply looked to Regan. After all, _somebody_ had to live her dream."

Janice was infuriated to hear this. She wanted to scream out lying accusations, but her lawyer silently told her to hold back.

He said to Janice's lawyer, "Regan is being raised as a Dalhousie. Just because he has a disability, it doesn't mean he should be treated any differently than my other children, or my brothers and sisters' children. Roderick and Rydell are deciding to become cops to honor the family tradition, not just because _they're _physically able to. They know that if they go against this, there will be hell for them to pay. My family and I don't see why Regan should be any different." Nobody in the courtroom looked convinced, so he continued, "Look, lots of people have overcome adversity to become great athletes and businesspeople and doctors and lawyers and whatnot. If only Regan could improve his athletic and observance skills, he'd be a great police officer."

"Keep dreaming, officer!" the lawyer sneered. "Surely you understand that cerebral palsic people aren't all that physically inclined. Your chief of police would state himself that while Regan could do okay on the written part of the exam, he'd fail the physical part." And before Cliff could respond, "You don't have to be a rocket surgeon to figure it out. You name me one member of the Los Angeles Police Department, or any other police department in the state of California or the United States, who has a lifelong disability, hidden or not." When he couldn't answer, "I rest my case. Nothing further, your honor."

Janice smiled at her lawyer. It looked as if Cliff finally realized his mistake. But for him, she knew, it would be too late. _Then again,_ she thought, _maybe he'll never get it._

And it was the words of Cliff's police chief, Saul Sandford, that were the most memorable. "I have interacted with young Regan at Cliff and Janice's house time and again," he said. "Let me say that if he went to the academy, while he could do all right on the written part of the final exam if he studied hard enough, he'd do so horribly on the physical part. Cliff has two brothers working the same precinct as him, and they sometimes bring their sons in to work out at the station gym, or ride along with them. Other cops have come into my office with stories of them yelling at Regan because he can't lift the barbells, or he would tire out running on the treadmill after only a couple of minutes, preferring to walk. Why, the only things he could ever do properly in there are the exercise bike and the stair machine. I've ever heard stories where they made Regan cry because one of them hit him.

"I don't know how many times I've called them into my office, and tell them to stop pressuring the boy like this. I've even told them to stop bringing him to the station for this sole purpose. But they'd just tell me they were working him up to follow family tradition. After a while, I gave up; I felt like I was talking to myself. You know how these families get when it comes to tradition, everyone has to follow it in some way, no exemptions, or else! I think that's ludicrous. If either of _my_ two sons had the same problems as Regan, I'd absolutely _dis_courage them from following in my path."

These were just the most memorable parts of the trial. Today, the judge would make his final ruling.

"This custody part of the case is a classic example of families who don't think past the ends of their noses," he said. "When Mrs. Dalhousie explained all the symptoms of Regan's cerebral palsy, I was more than convinced that the only thing he'd be capable of would be a desk job with a computer, typing correspondence, nothing physically or mentally challenging. And when people like Officer Dalhousie take advantage of these limitations, simply to keep family tradition in check, that really shows their ignorance. Chief Sandford's words about this are entirely correct, in my opinion." He looked directly at Cliff. "Officer Dalhousie, you and your family should be ashamed of yourselves, trying to force such pressure on a child such as Regan. If he were to actually become a police officer, I guarantee it wouldn't be long before he got shot by a criminal punk, or perhaps a criminal fleeing on foot would outrun him. You would be disappointed with him then, and the end results would be frightening. And after getting a sample of Regan's writings, I believe that he truly has the strength to succeed down the road. I certainly would like to sample more of it when he gets older, to see if he still has it." He turned to Janice. "Mrs. Dalhousie, you are entirely in the right to encourage him like this.

"Therefore, I would like to split custody between the three boys. Custody of Roderick and Rydell will go to Officer Dalhousie, while sole custody of Regan goes to Mrs. Dalhousie. After all, if the two older boys are adamant of becoming officers like family tradition rules they should, then I see no reason why they should not live separately from their father. Each will be made to pay child support, a sum of five hundred dollars a month from Officer Dalhousie, and eight hundred dollars from Mrs. Dalhousie. Officer Dalhousie will be awarded the house, and have no visitation rights for Regan, and Mrs. Dalhousie will be getting visitation rights for Roderick and Rydell to be set at every second weekend."

"Actually, your honor," Janice's lawyer stated, "I've talked about this with my client, and she's planning to move all the way across the country, to Empire City, where most of her family is. She thinks that those boys flying back and forth across the country that often would be inconvenient for them. She thinks a better idea would be to have visitation during school breaks and summer vacations, and holiday long weekends."

The judge thought it over and said, "Fair enough. In conclusion, I would like to say that this ruling should be a lesson to all families with disabled children _and_ career traditions, to make them realize that certain limitations can and do keep them from following tradition. It is dangerous to make a child go beyond these limitations for the sake of family harmony. I wish Mrs. Dalhousie the best of luck with Regan. Court is adjourned."

A few days later, as Janice finished packing up in the apartment she and Regan had lived in, school let out for the summer for him. She called the airport to book them on the next available flight to Empire City.

* * *

Down in Dallas, Texas, a very different trial was concluding for another woman – death penalty widow Lorna Waters – around the same time. 

It all started three years ago, when her husband, Stuart, was arrested and charged following a string of murders on some strict, conservative parents. Lorna was shocked, but vowed to stand by her husband. She grew up believing that divorce was, "a family-wreckin' sin," as her father put it. "The only exception would be cases of physical, mental or emotional abuse if they can't be redeemed." Lorna took that into her marriage, and Stuart had never put his hand or her or their two sons. Prior to the arrest, her marriage had been happy and blissful. She used to be a housewife and stay-at-home mother, too, so she had considerable trouble finding a job. She eventually found work as a waitress at a family restaurant.

She went to prison to confront her husband one day. "Stuart, why?" she asked. "How could you be the main suspect in the murders of all those parents?"

"Lorna, they're the ones who claimed they could see through Bobby an' Riley's good, obedient behavior!" Stuart said. "Remember two of the first victims, Michael and Marie Endicott, when they were over to our house years ago? Sweet Jesus, those boys were lookin' at 'em funny, and those damn people pulled out their belt an' hairbrush on the spot. An' remember that fight I told you about, the one I had with Greg Carlson at work, where I nearly lost my job? We never could git anyone to see that Bobby and Riley were too sweet an' wonderful fer that 'good ole fashioned spankin'.'"

"These people say they've never met a kid who didn't need one," Lorna seethed. "Ooh, this is why we never went to church, all this 'spare the rod, spoil the child' stuff. Callin' our children spoiled, what bunk! Surely, God understands that there are some kids who'd never need a smack on the behind. They always learned after a time-out in their rooms."

Her hand reached into the jail cell to touch his. "I believe you, Stuart," she said. "An' I'll stand by you no matter what."

The trial was abuzz all over the South, and the people were shocked by Lorna's decision to support her husband. The evidence against him gained more and more over the next five months in the courtroom. Lorna was much too distraught to talk to anyone about it, especially to the media that she'd avoid. During the trial, customers and co-workers at her restaurant, strangers who noticed her on the street, even her friends told her the same things:

"You must be pretty stupid to stand by this man when you know he's guilty."

"You need to back out of this an' him now. Yer marriage ain't worth savin'. My tax dollars ain't gonna pay fer a death penalty widow's grief counselin'!"

"Lorna, if this were my husband, I'd divorce him immediately, pack up the boys, an' move to New Jersey or somewhere."

It was mostly these times when she would preach her father's words about divorce, about how being tried for murder is no reason for divorce. "And I'll have you know that Stuart never put a hand on me or Bobby an' Riley, despite his use of weapons on other people. Why, our divorce would only hurt the boys, an' they'd never forgive me for deprivin' 'em of a father they love, regardless of his imprisonment."

And she strived to stand by Stuart up until he was inevitably found guilty of fifteen counts of murder just before the courts' Christmas break in 2017. As soon as courts resumed in the New Year, the judge sentenced him to die in the electric chair, and that he be, "bumped up the waitin' list so he'll be executed as quickly as possible." All Lorna could do then was cry for herself, her husband, and their sons.

Lorna visited Stuart every second evening from then up until the execution. She refused to let her sons come to the visits with her. "Your father's cryin' just as much as we are over this, the end of his life," she told them. "If you watch him cry, you'll cry louder than him, an' we can't have that. You must be brave for him."

The day before Stuart was executed, he was breaking down, clutching onto his wife's hand as he cried. He said, "I'm sorry it has to end like this, Lorna. I love you, sweetheart. I always will. Please tell Bobby and Riley goodbye fer me, and they should stay strong, do their best in school, to not grow up like me. And please, I want y'all to reserve a special place in all yer hearts fer me. I can't see ya in flesh no more, but I want to stay wit ya in spirit."

She managed to put her arms into the cell to wrap around her husband. "I love you sweetheart. I'll take very good care of the boys, I promise. And I swear I'll never forget all the happy times we shared. You'll be in my soul forever." Moments later, the corrections officer took her out of the prison.

Stuart Waters was executed at one minute after nine the next evening. Lorna couldn't attend the execution at the prison, and even shielded herself from all the live media coverage, not watching TV at all that night. But she broke down at breakfast when it was in the paper the next morning. She was a different woman since.

For the two years that followed, Lorna was crazy with grief, screaming and swearing at anyone who praised the execution, or the death penalty in general. Her psychotics eventually cost her waitress job, and she hadn't been able to hold employment since. They visited Stuart's burial spot once a month, a wooden cross in a field on the outskirts of town, where she put flowers on the grave and cried poor for her husband. The state of Texas refused to offer her grief counseling, stating, "The state does not believe in extending grief counseling to widows of executed inmates who insisted on standing by their husbands." Even Bobby and Riley started to misbehave. They had been expelled from school for bullying the children of the parents their father murdered, something that Lorna actually encouraged. They seemed a little calmer in their new school with in-school counseling, but they were still angry and upset about what happened to their father.

But it was nothing compared to the night of January 24, 2020. The second anniversary of the execution. The families of the murder victims held a candlelight vigil in Lorna's neighborhood, the brunt of them gathered on her front lawn. She was not happy to hear the preaching and singing outside her house. She waited until they had a "moment of silence," then she came out onto her porch and gave a shocking speech.

"It's your fault that I've been hallucinatin' these past two years!" she shouted. "You an' all your pro-spankin' kind! If all y'all had minded your own damn business about what Stuart and I did with our Bobby an' Riley, all of your family members would still be here, as would Stuart, and we would've still been the happy family we once were!"

"Save it, crazy lady!" one man shouted. "All yer claims 'bout yer boys bein' perfect lil' angels were bullshit! Yer husband wouldn't have had to be executed if only ya listened to my brother, and beaten their asses when he told ya to. You should've used the belt an' paddle on those minions! _That's_ how you create a functional family here in the South!" It was followed by loud applause from the vigil.

"How dare you?!" Lorna screamed over the din, then went back in the house. Minutes later, she came out with Stuart's old hunting rifle and started whacking people over their heads with it, hitting people all over the place, turning a peaceful vigil violent. The people responding by smacking, slapping and beating her. She never noticed her neighbors calling the police, and minutes later, she and sixty others were arrested.

Lorna thought about all this as this three-month trial came to an end; she was already found guilty of assault and disrupting the peace. Now, she was listening to the judge's decision.

"Between the murder trial of Stuart Waters, an' the assault trial of his widow, Lorna," he said, "I am convinced that this is the craziest family ever in the whole state of Texas. It is one thing to support one's husband when he's obviously guilty of a capital punishment crime. It is quite another to take your feelin's out on other people, specifically the survivors of the murder victims, after the husband got exactly what was comin' to him, because she was too prideful to consider divorce." He glared at Lorna. "Mrs. Waters, despite the fact that divorce disrupts families, most women in yer predicament would go fer in a heartbeat, to spare themselves more grief an' heartache. Yer actions went beyond the point of inexcusable an' unlawful, an' it's clear that you don't deserve to live here any longer.

"Therefore, I declare that Mrs. Waters and her two sons, Robert an' Riley, be exiled from this state as soon as possible, never to return. I will call a real estate agency to have the house put up fer sale immediately, and the family is to be out of state by the first of the month. Anythin' that is left behind in the house by then will be confiscated, unless Mrs. Waters requests those items be sent fer to her new livin' space. If the family is spotted anywhere in Texas after the deadline, Mrs. Waters shall be arrested, and the boys shall be placed in foster care."

The judge concluded, "There is a reason why capital punishment is big in the state of Texas, and that is to keep this land in the conservative position of authority that it is. I find it disgustin' that liberals like Mrs. Waters insist on questionin' that authority for the sole purpose of keepin' family together. Let this serve as a hard lesson for people like her. This case is dismissed."

Lorna left the courtroom with her sons, Bobby, now thirteen, and Riley, who would be ten in the coming month. She was thinking of only one destination – Empire City. Two of her cousins lived there; they called it, "more diverse in ethnicity an' background than in all of North America." Perhaps they will help her set up new housing, and find a suitable school for the boys. She told her sons this, and they looked bewildered.

"Empire City?" Bobby asked. "That's up in the north, isn't it? How will we fit in with all of those… Yankees? What would Grandpa an' the family think of this?"

"They'd probably encourage it, telling me there aren't any options," Lorna said. "We're officially a disgrace to the South, and we probably wouldn't be welcome out west, either."

They spent the next week packing up their clothes and personal items. Lorna made a list of appliances they'd leave behind that needed to be shipped to Empire City, including TV's, computers, their microwave, most living room and basement furniture. She called an airport to reserve plane tickets to Empire City. They got reservations for the afternoon of June 27th. The day before, they went to her husband's wooden cross.

"This is it," she told him. "The last time we'll ever see each other, Stu. Tomorrow, the boys an' I will be flying out to this place, Empire City, in accordance to Texan law. But don't you worry, I've got Tammy-Lynn an' Jackson to care for us until we get suitable, affordable housing, and I get myself a good job. I'm actually looking forward to this, I don't want to be a basket case crying over you anymore. I want you to look at me in spirit and see me happy an' free. Maybe Empire City will help me." She was playing with her long, curly light brown hair the whole time.

Bobby spoke for himself and Riley. "Goodbye, Dad. We'll never ferget you. We promise we'll work hard fer our new school an' teachers in Empire City… fer you. We love you, sweet Daddy."

Lorna put her bouquet on the grave and kissed the cross one last time. "Goodbye, my husband, my love. I will always love you." She led her boys back into the car and drove away.

* * *

In late July, Debra Janeway was flying to her new home in Empire City with her two daughters, eleven-year-old Stephanie and eight-year-old Emma. Before, they'd lived in Chicago, where Debra was married to a K-9 unit officer named Keith Janeway, and also a successful wedding planner. Keith's "partner", a German Shepherd they named Dodger, was considered the "family pet." 

Then, one day in the previous November, both Keith and Dodger were shot to death in a field following a high-speed chase out of town, by three young men whom Dodger noticed had crack cocaine on them. When they'd learned what happened to their husband, father and pet, both girls were ready to start crying, only to be horrified when they saw their mother faint.

At the funeral service, all her friends and co-workers gave their love and support. One co-worker even volunteered to take over her duties while she stayed home for a while. She thought she was feeling better until her client, whose wedding she was planning at the time, made an insensitive comment: "It's better that you're widowed now, Ms. Janeway. After all, who's going to take a _divorced_ wedding planner seriously?"

She wanted to hit her in front of everyone, but remembered she was in a church. So she just said, "Of course you can take a divorced wedding planner seriously. A divorced _marriage counselor_, now that's another story."

She managed to complete the wedding preparations for her offending client, as well as successfully prepare a lavish wedding for the daughters of the Friedlanders, Chicago's wealthiest business family, in the three months after. It earned her one hundred fifty thousand dollars, enough to start her own wedding planning business. But during this time, she'd thought about leaving Chicago. "We need to move on from losing Daddy and Dodger," she told her girls. She looked online and found some decent office space in Empire City that cost ten thousand dollars. She decided to buy it.

Now, on the plane, the athletic Stephanie was thinking about Dodger, how she'd always go running with him, and she and her sister playing fetch with him, with a stick or ball or Frisbee. She sighed and said to her mother, "I miss Dodger most of all, Mom. Is it okay if we get a new dog once we get settled in Empire City?"

Emma smiled happily at the idea. "Yeah, Mom!" she agreed. "Can we? Can we get a new dog? A German Shepherd just like Dodger." But Stephanie looked upset at her.

"Girls," Debra said, "we'll probably be living in a two-bedroom apartment, and those buildings don't allow pets. You know that." The sisters sighed, disappointed.

"Look, as well as this move that we're making," she told them, "I've read that another step in moving on from losing a spouse is to get back into the social scene when you've recovered. If I can find a man who's a dog person, maybe–" But the girls were cheering before she could finish.

"Thanks, Mom, you're the best!" Stephanie said. She kissed her mother's cheek and faced forward. Maybe now, she could overcome the losses, too.

* * *

In Empire City, Valerie Boston had ten chairs set up in one boss's office, in the advertising agency where she worked, Lancer and Sussex. They were all facing her and one of her employers, George Sussex. It was October 15th, two days after the final interviews were conducted, searching for five employees to replace the ones Valerie had gotten fired the month before. They had spent the entire day before informing the finalists, discussing which ones they wanted to hire, discussing the pros and cons of each. Now, it was time to do the hiring. She sat beside Mr. Sussex's large desk, a sheet in her hand. 

"I'm ready when you are, sir," she said.

Mr. Sussex smiled at her and pressed on his intercom. "Teresa," he said, "send in the finalists."

Ten men and women entered the office, all of varied ages. Six Caucasians, three African-Americans, and one Latin woman. They were all smiling when they saw Valerie. These were the ones who agreed with her view that physically punishing mentally disabled children was entirely wrong. Children like Valerie's eleven-year-old son, Jeremy, who was diagnosed with Shaken Baby Syndrome so severe, he was declared retarded. Valerie was thinking about Jeremy when these finalists were seating themselves, only to stop daydreaming when she heard Mr. Sussex say, "Good day, ladies and gentlemen. Congratulations on passing the interview process for this company. You have been chosen for a special reason, not just your outstanding work experiences and willingness to work hard for this company. Your views on raising special needs children will help you to work well with Valerie Boston, which will help create an ideal working environment."

"Your cheerful dispositions, attentiveness, determination to succeed, and positive attitudes impressed us both, and I wish we could hire you all," Valerie added. "Unfortunately, we only have five positions to fill, and these were the hardest decisions we ever had to make. So to those who don't get selected, thank you for your interest and submissions, and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors."

She read from the list of checked-off candidates. "Please stand up when I call your name," she instructed. "First off is our most important position, project manager. The choice for this position is Marilyn Hobbes. Congratulations, Marilyn."

The woman of forty-three years old – whom Valerie had bonded with earlier – stood up, smiling professionally.

"Next position is in our legal department," Valerie announced. "That position goes to Richard Thomas."

The African-American man whom Valerie sympathized with over his heart-breaking loss of his daughter, who also had Shaken Baby Syndrome, rose and smiled at Valerie. "Thank you, Ms. Boston," he said. "Although we have different positions, I'd like to help you spread more awareness of the condition that plagued both our children."

Valerie nodded and went to the list of advertisers. "Finally, our list of 'drones,' as they say in the business world," she laughed. "Our first selection for this position is Jill Watterson."

A younger woman, mid-thirties, with straighter light brown hair and glowing blue eyes, stood up and smiled naturally.

"Our second selection," Valerie continued, "is Peter Loveless."

The young man with the sandy hair stood up and adjusted his tie.

"And the last candidate to work at this agency is Louise Lopez," Valerie concluded.

The Latin woman, around late thirties, grinned in delight as she stood.

Mr. Sussex looked at the chosen candidates. "Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "You will report to this building for your first day of work tomorrow." To the candidates still sitting, "To the rest of you, thank you for making it this far and good luck with your search in the future."

He went to his file drawer for five sheets of paper for the selected ones. "I need you to fill out your personal information for our employee files, please." He retrieved pens for them all.

The next morning, Valerie was in her office, looking through her mail. She'd been waiting all this time for a reply from Texas Pride Jeans Company. She had sent two sets of magazine ads, one based on the billboard she completed the previous month. She was mostly thinking of the other set she did with Walker Calhoun, Sundown from one of Empire City's elite team of police specialists, C.O.P.S. One of the many men on that force whom she used to date.

Sure enough, she saw the envelope with the Texas Pride logo on it, addressed to her. She ripped it open quickly and prayed for good news. It read:

_Dear Ms. Boston:_

_We at Texas Pride were pleased to receive the series of advertisements we requested, following the approval of your billboard ad. We are impressed with your decision to put most of the original billboard models in the first serial._

_The "Wild West" theme of the first serial, and the use of related props and sets, was very well done, in our opinion. It gives off the authentic look and flavor that we put into our product. We've noticed that in each of these four ads, you've had one model be shirtless at the front, and the other wearing a shirt at the back. This is a wise decision on your part, as if gives off the "sexiness" look of the product without having the consumer thinking about homosexual stereotypes. Again, a job well done._

_You've also included an extra serial featuring Walker "Sundown" Calhoun, the sheriff marshal for the Central Organization of Police Specialists (C.O.P.S.), which you did following the disaster that occurred while shooting the first serial. Though I found the shirtlessness and some of the poses to be suggestive, amazingly, this was quite popular among our staff. At the meeting, the women among our decision-making staff were fawning over Sheriff Calhoun and making comments. One, Ms. Davine Hilliard, was quoted as saying, "What is he doing enforcing the law? He should be a romance novel cover model." Some of the men had the same thoughts as myself, but it had the attraction of others. One man, Mr. Scott Wilson, was quoted as saying, "Look at those arms, chest and abs. I'd kill to look like this man." Mr. Paul Malone endorsed this statement, saying, "Women will want this man, and men will want to be him. He'd be the perfect spokesmodel."_

_At this time, I am pleased to inform you that we have decided to accept both sets of ads. The ones based on the billboard, and the set with Sheriff Calhoun will be placed in major women's magazines for their sex appeal, to entice our female customers. Separately, the billboard based ads will also be shown to magazines aimed at teenage and college-aged readers, in keeping with 16-30 age demographic, while the ads featuring Sheriff Calhoun will be in major men's magazines, to draw the interests of these customers._

_Thank you, and we hope to do future business with you. Please call us upon receiving this letter to negotiate payment._

_Sincerely,_

_Jim Kirkland, President_

Valerie was enthralled, but knew she couldn't squeal or dance around in her office. "Oh, I can't wait to show this to the C.O.P.S.," she told herself. "Maybe I can ask Mr. Lancer to photocopy it." She went to find her other boss, Chris Lancer , and her Texas Pride project team, Gerinna Donalds and Stephen Flett.

* * *

"So, how did you enjoy your first day?" Valerie asked Marilyn Hobbes as they left their work later that day. 

"It was all right," Marilyn answered. "It was nice meeting everyone at the introductory meeting this morning, but being project manager is tougher than I thought. I can't believe I have to wait to be assigned something, while Jill, Peter and Louise all got to work right away."

"Yeah, they usually hold interviews to give the details on the ad they want," Valerie explained, "then Lancer or Sussex decides who would be best fitting to lead. Unless the client requests a leader due to word of mouth or personal connections."

She then led Marilyn to her car. "Speaking of which, I'm on my way to C.O.P.S. headquarters. Come along with me. I'll introduce you to Bullseye, like I promised."

"I brought my own car, thanks," Marilyn said. "I'll follow you, though."

Valerie drove to the end of the parking lot, and looked for Marilyn through her rear-view mirror. When she saw her driving her own car, she looked out for traffic, then went her way to the headquarters, Marilyn trailing behind her.

As soon as they arrived, they saw a police car parking in the spot beside Valerie. They saw two officers step out, one with hair the color of sand, wearing a navy blue police uniform that looked somewhat padded, with gold on the shoulders. The other wore an orange cap with the word "SWAT" on it, goggles over his eyes, and a brown uniform with a black device over the left shoulder and pectoral that Valerie could never identify. Valerie smiled; respectively, they were Stanley "Barricade" Hide, crowd control officer; and Colt "Mace" Howards, SWAT team member. But Barricade was the one whom Valerie chose for her love.

"Barricade, Mace, how lovely to see you," she said, then went over to kiss Barricade. She stared into his eyes and told him, "My mother and sisters just adored you when we were at Rhonda's house for Columbus Day dinner."

"I enjoyed their company," Barricade replied, then Valerie felt a tap on her shoulder.

Marilyn looked peeved at her. "Aren't you going to introduce me?" she asked.

Valerie slapped her forehead and said, "Right, where are my manners?" She introduced her to both C.O.P.S. formally, then said, "Guys, this is Marilyn Hobbes, our new project manager at Lancer and Sussex."

"Nice to meet ya," Mace said.

"Charmed," Barricade replied. Marilyn smiled and said her thanks.

Valerie looked at the two C.O.P.S. and asked, "Listen, I'm thinking Bulletproof may be around, but what about Sundown? We have business to show them."

"Bulletproof's in there somewhere," Mace replied, "but I dunno about Sundown." Valerie nodded and left with Marilyn.

Just outside the front doors, Valerie explained before Marilyn could ask. "Bulletproof's real name is Baldwin P. Vess, and you know about Sundown, okay? I showed you the letter at lunch, remember? And speaking of Bulletproof, did I tell you what happened when Sussex and I interviewed his sister?"

Inside, she began telling her about the "high and mighty" attitude that Darlene Vess-Jackson displayed when they were talking about Valerie's son, her comments about how Jeremy looked like a brat, her boasting about how she and her siblings benefited from physical punishment, the criticisms of Valerie's parenting and decision-making skills. Valerie completely ignored any officers she walked past, looking around for Sundown and not seeing him. She and Marilyn arrived at Bulletproof's office when she got to Mr. Sussex's "tell-off" speech in Darlene's interview, and didn't knock on the door until she finished talking.

"Come in," Bulletproof called.

In the office, Marilyn saw an African-American male just closing his file drawer, taking a manila folder to his desk. He was dressed in a yellow shirt and brick-colored slacks. His narrow tie was barely noticeable to her.

"Ah, Bulletproof, how nice to see you," Valerie said. After she introduced him to Marilyn, she said, "Now, let's get down to business. Remember those ads featuring Sundown that I did for Texas Pride?" She presented her letter. "This came today, and I'm sure you'll be pleased with the news."

Bulletproof read the letter, surprised by some details. "Popular among the staff? Women fawning over Sundown and making comments? _What?_ Spokesmodel?" He stared at Valerie for a few moments. "I don't know about this, really. Do you think this is a good idea?"

"It's a great idea," Valerie said. "Ever heard of moonlighting? Lots of police and fire fighters have moonlighted as models and actors when not on duty with their units. And speaking as someone who's had glances of him, if you get my drift, I think Sundown would be just the man to model. Where is he, anyway? I haven't seen him around here."

"He's out on assignment," Bulletproof answered. "I'll pass this along to him when he gets back."

Marilyn whispered in Valerie's ear, and she added, "Oh yeah, and do you also know where Bullseye is today?"

"Sorry, but he just got off duty an hour ago," Bulletproof replied.

She looked at her new friend, who looked disappointed. "Well, thanks for you time, Bulletproof. Have Sundown call me at home about that spokesmodel thing, okay?"

"I'll think about it first. See you, Valerie." The women left, Valerie winking at Barricade on the way out.

At their cars, Marilyn sighed, "Well, that was a bust! Tell me, Valerie, what's his real name, so I can look him up?"

"I didn't get his real name, sorry," Valerie replied. "Now that I think about it, he passed me over without even asking me out. Are you sure you want him?"

"If he likes aircraft as much as Justin does, I'll give him a try," Marilyn said.


	2. And The Romances Begin

Author's Note: Hello, C.O.P.S. fans. Okay, some things that I need to remind you of here. One, in this story, the name of Longarm's wife is Elise, not Linda, as it is in the cartoon serial. When I started the prequel, I had no idea of what Mrs. O'Malley's first name was, so I picked Elise as a nice enough name. (As you can read, she and Valerie are co-workers, and I wanted to refer to her by her given name.) It wasn't until I was well into writing "Valerie" (Chapter 29, in fact) that I learned her true identity, and it was against site regulations to go back and change the name just for this reason (still is!). So, Mrs. O'Malley's first name in this story will be Elise, just like in "Valerie."

Secondly, I had to adjust the formation date of the C.O.P.S. organization for story purposes here. This story and "Valerie," just like the cartoon, is set in the year 2020 (the year 2021 coming up in this case.) However, if you go back to Chapter 7 of "Valerie," I stated that the laughably unbelievable romance that was Mace and Nightshade had been going on for a year, at the time Nightshade found out about Mace and Valerie. According to the show's timeline, that romance didn't start up until several months after C.O.P.S. was formed. Fast forward a few more months, and the events of that "Lawless Lady" episode (you know, the one where the "fake" lovers" get engaged, never saw it, though) take place. So in this story, I will assume that the C.O.P.S. organization came together around late summer of early fall of 2018. Oh, and the C.O.P.S. from Season 2 supposedly came along at this point, but I'm only using Season 1 C.O.P.S. and Crooks in the story, along the OC member of C.O.P.S. from the prequel.

Hope that clears up any confusion. Please read, review and enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 2

"Elise, thank you so much for taking over for me these past few weeks," Valerie said the next day. "I feel I owe you one big time."

She was at the home of Officer P.J. "Longarm" O'Malley, having cappuccinos with his wife, Elise, who was also Valerie's friend and co-worker. Elise had been fulfilling Valerie's duties as project manager while she was sitting in with Mr. Sussex on interviews. She had heard that Elise did a very good job, getting acceptances on three projects out of four.

"No problem," Elise replied. "You're my friend, and when Mr. Sussex approached me to cover for you, I was more than happy to do it."

"And you did a tremendous job, too," Valerie replied. "You have to tell me about it – including that rejection. I don't believe this, my first rejection?"

Elise rolled her eyes. "A competition, 'battle of the sexes' thing where August Bata's project team big time beat me," she sighed. "A commercial for the National Army searching for recruits. Margo Kellogg and Carmen Robana decide to theme this on the sacrifices soldiers make for their country, and all this pride stuff and that, just in time for Veteran's Day. We had a depressing scene in a war veteran's cemetery, and all these soldiers getting shot and killed in between. I desperately tried to talk them out of it, saying it was too sad. I mean, would you do a commercial for police recruits, then have cops getting killed in the line of duty?" She guzzled her cappuccino like it was beer.

"God, no," Valerie said, her lip bit so she wouldn't laugh.

"Exactly!" Elise said. "And the clients could not believe what they saw! They said the cemetery was 'disturbingly emotional,' and the casualties of war were 'horrifying, sad and scary.' I was so disgusted with Margo and Carmen's shocked looks. They said we didn't know anything about the Army or Navy. It was embarrassing. Meanwhile, August's team had men and women from a local Army base barking out advantages of joining up, like they were military orders, and showing these advantages in between."

"Oh, God!" Valerie lamented. "Okay, I've heard enough."

"Oh, no, there's one more thing," Elise said. "You may be interviewing for another replacement in the near future, because Carmen was called out for the failure."

"I would've done the same thing." Valerie sipped her drink. "So, tell me all about your successes."

Elise smiled and said, "One was a newspaper ad for this store, Cheapers Keepers. They've got this two-week sale on Halloween costumes starting yesterday and running until the day before Halloween. We were given ten adult costumes and ten kid costumes. We started with the kid costumes. Cindy work with us on this, and it was her idea for us to go to Brian and Tyler's school to recruit boys and girls to appear in the ad. Brian was in the ad, wearing this Superman costume we had – ooh, but my little boy was so cute."

"Mom!" her son, Brian, called from the living room. "I think Jeremy and I can hear that!"

"Sorry, Brian," Elise called back, then continued to Valerie, "All the kids looked so sweet in the costumes we had them wearing, in fact. The clients fell in love with that part immediately."

"What about the adult costumes?" Valerie asked.

"Stephen Flett had this idea of recruiting Cheapers Keepers employees from all of Empire City's locations," Elise said. "One of them the locations we called was owned by our client, and he loved that idea, but he could only get three volunteers. Thankfully, we could recruit the other seven from two other shops. Stephen got the pictures that afternoon, Cindy stayed behind to work on the layout and prices, and the next day, we added the costume model pictures. We managed to get it done by lunch, and Mr. Lancer thought it was good. Needless to say, we set up the presentation a day early."

"That's great," Valerie grinned.

Elise then told her about a one-page advertisement she completed by herself over Columbus Day weekend, suitable for high-class magazines in Empire City. It was a hand-drawn project promoting a local chocolate maker, Charlemagne. She said, "I got this idea after looking at some pictures of a friend's recent fall vacation in Paris. People sitting at tables at an outdoor café on a spring afternoon, eating boxes of Charlemagne chocolates. I showed the chocolates being eaten, even have a string of caramel from an eater's mouth, very important for the ad. The slogan was, 'Devour the taste of Europe.' I should have Mr. Lancer show it to you, all the colors. They said it really captured the consumer's eye, and it looked like a modern-day classical painting. They even talked about a serial featuring other parts of Europe – Switzerland, Italy, Belgium, Denmark. I'll need your help with these."

"Sure thing," Valerie promised.

"And this week," Elise concluded, "I led a 30-second promotional video project for office software from Softbrand Computers in Seattle. This one does spreadsheets, slideshows like PowerPoint does, and all these professional features of word processing. I won't give you all the details, but I took a lesson from the Army commercial fiasco. So we created a slideshow presentation featuring animation and color for all the images with text, and moving pictures showing each feature. Valerie, they fell all over it."

Valerie smiled. "You're right, I'm going to have to ask Mr. Lancer to show me those three accepted ads. I may have to ask him and Sussex to promote you to project manager." She giggled, then sipped her cappuccino. "Especially if we might have to expand and hire more people next year."

She thought of Barricade's brother and sisters who had advertising careers. She still hadn't met anyone in his family yet, and wondered when she was going to. And if that last part was true, then she was looking forward to working with them.

* * *

Meanwhile, Marilyn, still determined to meet Hugh "Bullseye" Forward, was driving back to C.O.P.S headquarters. Her two children, twelve-year-old Justin and seven-year-old Bridget, were sitting quietly in the backseat. Although she came to a green light, she suddenly slammed her foot on the brake, as a ten-wheeler soda pop truck sped past her at the intersection, speeding through a red light. The children looked scared to her in her rear-view mirror. 

"Jesus Christ!" she screamed. "Drive through a red light, why don't you?!" Then she saw two police cars speeding past her. "Good! Maybe _they_ will help the asshole learn the law!"

She decided to turn and follow the police cars. "Mom," Justin said, "I thought we were going to C.O.P.S headquarters."

"I know, honey," Marilyn replied, "but I'm curious as to why this bastard is in such a hurry." She then looked at Bridget in her mirror and gasped.

"Oh, sorry for the bad language, sweetie," she said to her. Bridget didn't reply.

As Marilyn drove, Justin could see part of the Air Raid helicopter flying just above the buildings, out of the windshield. "Cool!" he cried. "They have a helicopter joining the chase, too."

"Why would they have a helicopter in a police chase?" Bridget asked.

"This is so the pilot can see the action of the chase," Justin explained, "and report what's going on to the cruiser cops through radio, like when that truck driver will get out and flee on foot. I remember Dad telling me about this."

Suddenly, the truck turned onto another street. Marilyn couldn't tell with the cars ahead of her, but she thought the back of the truck collided with something else on the turn. She sighed with frustration, saying to herself, "God, when will this chase come to an end?"

The chase continued as they crossed one of the bridges leading to another borough of the city. Across the street from the end of the bridge was a brick building that looked like an apartment complex. The closest street crossing was only three feet away, not enough room for the truck to turn, so it ended up crashing into the building on the right side of that street. Marilyn stopped in front of that building, so she couldn't see if the driver got out or not, same with the officers who were chasing him.

Marilyn backed her car up to the driver's side of the truck. The door was open, as were the doors of the police cars just a dozen feet ahead. But the Air Raid was still flying along with the chase in the distance. As she prepared to get out, she told her children, "Stay in the car, okay, kids? I'm just going to see if I can find anyone."

She looked out for only a few moments, then said, "Whoever can lead the police in a chase on foot for this long must be a really good runner."

A couple of minutes later, she could see two officers coming back, carrying the suspect by the arms. One of them was wearing a trenchcoat along with sunglasses, but Marilyn could tell it was Bulletproof from the day before. The second officer was dressed more like a normal policeman, perhaps a patrol officer, the blue button-down shirt with the badge, and black pants, the police cap, and carrying a nightstick. But she noticed an unfamiliar handcuffing device on his right wrist. It was Longarm himself

The suspect they had wore dark glasses, a pink shirt and white pants with suspenders, and short-cut hair with a mustache attached to a beard. Behind them, she saw Barricade and Mace carrying another suspect, this one having a blond crew-cut, and wearing white pants without suspenders. She also noticed a barrel-type body underneath the red shirt and blue jacket he wore.

She didn't notice, but the C.O.P.S. were shocked to see her.

"Marilyn Hobbes?" Bulletproof cried. "Ms. Hobbes? Where did you come from? What are you doing here? Have you been following us this whole time?"

Instead of answering the question, Marilyn said, "Bulletproof? Thanks for showing me the assholes who caused me to make a sudden stop at the intersection when the light was green." She turned to Longarm. "And you must be Longarm, right? Elise told me about you while we were on coffee break yesterday." She only grinned nervously and Barricade and Mace.

The suspect in the pink shirt grinned at Marilyn and said, "Hey, baby, yer lookin' cute. How's about you an' me gettin' it on back at my place when I get outta jail?"

She looked at him. "And who in the hell are _you_?" she shot back. The other suspect just gave a devious grin to her, and she suddenly looked uneasy.

Before she could get an answer, a paddywagon arrived to take the two suspects away. When the C.O.P.S. finished booking the suspects, Bulletproof said, "Marilyn, get into your car and follow us back to HQ. You have a lot of explaining to do."

She looked up at the Air Raid, hovering around fifty meters above her. She felt as if the pilot was looking down at her, too. She got back into her car, and sighed at the trouble she may be in. "And all this because I wanted to meet that helicopter pilot Valerie told me about," she muttered.

Back at the headquarters, Marilyn was escorted to the interviewing room. There, she was staring at Bulletproof, Longarm, Barricade, Mace, and four more C.O.P.S. officers; a young man with mousy brown hair, wearing a black driving suit (though she couldn't tell); an older man with tanned skin and a curled mustache, wearing a ten-gallon hat and a white and brown sheriff's uniform with a holster around his waist; a younger man with reddish-brown hair wearing blue pilot's suit (again, Marilyn couldn't tell); and a woman with jet black hair and a police uniform like Longarm's. Donny "Hardtop" Brooks, Walker "Sundown" Calhoun, Hugh "Bullseye" Forward and Suzie "Mirage" Young", as Bulletproof respectively introduced to Marilyn. All eight C.O.P.S. looked cross with her.

"Now," Bulletproof said, "what were you doing following us on a police chase that had nothing to do with you?"

Marilyn stared and pointed at Bullseye. "I was on my way here to see if this officer was on duty and around," she said. "Valerie had promised me, before I was even hired at Lancer and Sussex, that she would introduce me to him. Bullseye, the one that you, Bulletproof, said was not in when we came here yesterday, remember?"

"I remember," Bulletproof said. "Go on."

"Anyway," Marilyn continued, "I was about to _legally_ drive through a green light when this humongous truck you were chasing – I was guessing it was stolen – flew by at God knows what high speed, right through a fucking red light! Had it not been for that sudden stop that probably scared the hell out of my kids, I would have crashed, and all three of us would have been fucking killed! I was only curious to know who those asshole drivers were, going so recklessly. The one in that awful pink shirt and mismatching pants, and that punk in the red and blue, with that brushcut. Who were they."

"That one with the pink shirt, that Bulletproof and I had with us," Longarm said, "his name is Turbo Tu-Tone. And that one with blond crewcut, his name is Berserko. Has Valerie or Elise ever told you about the Big Boss?"

"No," Marilyn answered. "They only mentioned you guys. Elise went on and on about how happily she was married to you, Longarm, and Valerie told me about dating some of you all at once. But I saw her kissing Barricade yesterday, so I'm guessing that–"

"Yes, Ms. Hobbes, your colleague, Valerie Boston, chose me as her only one," Barricade bragged.

Marilyn turned back to Bullseye. "And Valerie also told me that you rejected her without even giving her a chance," she told him.

"That's because I could never have a connection with her son," Bullseye admitted. "I could tell just by looking at him. Ms. Hobbes, my dream father-son bonding activity would be to show the boy that Air Raid helicopter I was flying, and having him fly with me. Maybe even teach him to fly. I felt horrible treating her so badly, but how could I do that with Jeremy if he's so physically and mentally inept, and moving his head around all the time? If I put him in the pilot's seat, I'd be putting the both of us in danger."

She thought it over, then gave an accepting smile. "Fair enough. And by the way, you can call Ms. Hobbes when you pick me as your project manager at the agency, and we're discussing recruitment or fundraising commercials or something like that. Valerie said you guys were our clients. When I'm not on my job, you can call me Marilyn, okay?"

"Fair enough," Bulletproof replied, and the C.O.P.S. began to feel more comfortable towards her."

Marilyn looked at Bullseye again. "Just so you know, Bullseye," she said, "I have a twelve-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter. They're standing outside this room, waiting for me. Justin is fascinated by airplanes and helicopters, and anything else that flies. I'm confident he'll like you."

"Thanks, Marilyn," Bullseye said, "but won't your husband object if we start a friendship together?"

She held out her hands to show no wedding ring. "I don't have a husband," she said. "He was a police officer who was killed on duty a few days before Christmas last year."

"Oh, Marilyn, we're so sorry," Bulletproof said.

"It's okay. I'm a strong woman determined to move myself and my kids along." She retrieved a small sheet of paper and wrote down her phone number for Bullseye. "Bullseye, why don't you give me a call sometime this weekend? Maybe we can do something."

He looked hesitant, being asked for a date on that spot. "Sure, Marilyn, I'd love to. Maybe if I don't get off my shift too late, I'll call you tonight. If I don't, how about tomorrow afternoon or evening?"

"That's fine. I'll be waiting for you." She smiled as she walked out and gathered up her children. On the way out, she passed rookie officer Tina "Mainframe" Cassidy. Marilyn chatted with her for a bit as she studied the blue vest and jeans, and baseball cap she wore. She inwardly wondered what was in Mainframe's closet at home. _She could use a more feminine look_, she thought.

* * *

When he got off his shift that night, Sundown headed directly to the Cavalier Country and Western Club. He'd been there a few nights that week, nights when he wasn't on duty. He frequented the bar for a few drinks, something he'd done ever since Valerie finally picked Barricade over him. He ordered scotch with Coca-Cola and ice. As the bartender tended to the order, he asked, "You still depressed over that Valerie woman gittin' away? Why, when I caught my last girlfriend with some construction man, I managed to git over it immediately. I just said, "Lady, if you ain't gonna stop yer philanderin', then I see no reason why this relationship should continue." 

"Valerie Boston ain't never was like that," Sundown replied. "She was beautiful, she was radiant. She had the power to attract any man who ever looked at her. Sure, she had some of my colleagues as well as me, but the look in her eyes told me she loved me, she wanted to be wit me. At least, that what I reckoned." He drank a quarter of his drink. "I loved her, an' I honestly reckoned that she loved me enough to wanna marry me. I could tell she wanted somethin' long term. Damn, I wish I could understand what Barricade had that I didn't. Lord knows I had that same promise to security he had, somethin' I knew she needed."

He looked out at the women sitting at the tables. He saw one redhead, but it was mostly blondes and brunettes. All the brunettes had dark hair, flat down past their shoulders. Some blondes wore their hair like that, too, but a few others had that same curly and bouncy hair Valerie had. Half were wearing dresses, the other half had cowboy shirts and boots with blue jeans. But no one was flirting with him, or even acknowledging his presence. He looked out at the dance floor, the floor he and Valerie danced on when they were there the weekend before he gave her flowers. Three couples two-stepping to some fast-dancing love song, no one who was unattached. Memories of Sundown and Valerie dancing slow on that floor suddenly came back to him, and he turned away. He was choking, but tried hard not to cry. He gulped the rest of his drink, and slammed the glass on the bar, but it did not shatter.

"No," he whispered aloud. "Damn, I miss Valerie so much. I miss her son, Jeremy. Oh, why the hell did she have to go an' reject me?"

Just then, Lorna came into the country club, alone. She sat down at one of the few vacant tables in the whole place. She'd been there a few times before, as well as other bars in Empire City, with her cousin Tammy-Lynn, usually on ladies' nights. It was mostly to reclaim her social life in attempt to recover from Stuart's execution, but this time, both Tammy-Lynn and Jackson encouraged her to find someone else to love. She looked around at the men in the club. They all looked gorgeous with their brown, jet-black and blonde hair, some covered by ten-gallon cowboy hats, and masculine facial features, and their Western-type shirts, and blue, black and grey jeans. But all of them were talking, making out or dancing with other women. She folded her arms and sighed.

"Damn, I thought Tammy-Lynn told me there were lots of single men in Empire City," she said to herself. "Maybe I came to the wrong place. This seems like the type of club you'd take a date to."

Suddenly, she spotted Sundown, the tan-looking man sitting alone at the bar, wearing a white sleeveless shirt and matching cowboy hat – both with a single brown felt stripe, she noticed – with brown jeans and cowboy boots. She noticed some jet-black hair on the back of his head. "Ooh, that one over there looks a little unattached," she said to herself. "I wonder where his lady is." She began to flirt, and saw the bartender tapping his shoulder, telling him to acknowledge her.

Sundown turned and saw Lorna. He saw her smile just a little bit bigger when she noticed the sheriff's badge on his right pectoral. She waved at him. He became nervous, as if he'd heard of that woman before, like she was somehow on the opposite side of the law.

"I reckon I know that lady from somewhere," Sundown whispered. "Ain't that Lorna Waters, that death penalty widow from down in Dallas? I was still Texas Sheriff at the time of that trial. I still can't believe she stood by that husband of hers. I mean, he killed fifteen people, an' it never fazed her? Oh, an' the way she went psycho after his execution? So glad I never stuck around in Texas after that! What did she reckon was gonna happen to start wit?" He looked at her and shuddered, then quickly turned back around.

Lorna wasn't happy with that response. "Oh no," she said. "No man as handsome as you is gonna turn yer back on me so quickly." Just then, a waiter approached her table for her order. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry we took so long," she said.

"Actually, I'm just going up to the bar," she said. As she walked she said to herself, "Just smile an' be perky, Lorna. He'll warm up to you."

She sat down next to Sundown and said, "Well, hello. Aren't you just the most handsome man to cross the concrete jungle?"

He sighed and said, "Look, ma'am, I have a pretty good idea who ya are. You're Lorna Waters, widow of Stuart Waters, the anti-conservative who was executed for the murders of fifteen parents."

"An' you must be one of those lawman types," she replied. "I noticed that badge you've got. Look, I'm trying to put my past behind me. Please don't hold the trial or the execution against me."

"Another scotch an' Coke for ya?" the bartender asked Sundown.

"Better make it straight soda," Sundown ordered. "I wanna be able to drive home."

"An' I'll have a Diet Coke, if you have any," Lorna ordered. She then turned to Sundown, "So I think maybe you can guess what brought me to Empire City."

"You mean that trial of yer own," Sundown said, "where ya assaulted the survivin' family members of the folks yer husband killed?"

"You got that from the media, didn't ya?" Lorna sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "Seems like everybody in this town knows me. You know, I've only been living here for three-an'-a-half months, an' no matter how much I update my résumé and cover letter, I still can't find a job. I wish I hadn't beaten those poor people wit Stuart's rifle. All I ever wanted was for them to stop harassing me about him an' my family. Stuart may be disagreeable when it came to certain people, but he was a wonderful husband to me, an' a wonderful father to our two sons."

Sundown looked a little interested in her now. "What're their names? An' how old are they?"

"Bobby's thirteen an' Riley's ten," she answered. "An' they still miss their father so much. When Stuart was around, they were so well-behaved, you'd think twice before you took a paddle to them. But since he died, they've been depressed, distant from others, an' prone to lashing out. But they've never been violent, not since they've been counseled at their last school in Dallas." She drank some of her cola, then stared at Sundown for a few more moments.

"By the way, you never told me your name," she said.

Sundown smiled and said, "The name's Calhoun. Walker Calhoun. But I'd like it if ya called me by my code name, Sundown."

Lorna looked confused. "I'm sorry, code name? Who on earth would give you a code name?"

Sundown gulped a bit of his cola. "I guess maybe I should tell ya a lil' more about me," he said. "See, I used to be Texas Sheriff, workin' in the city of Houston, up 'til around a coupla years ago, when I was approached by a P.J. O'Malley, we call him Longarm. He an' our leader, we call him Bulletproof, they learned 'bout my performances on my watches, an' all the cases I took care of, an' Longarm invited me to be part of this team of police specialists, C.O.P.S. I was more than happy to accept. That code name Sundown was assigned to me by Bulletproof himself."

"That's really interesting," Lorna said.

Just then, the next song played, and everybody went to the dance floor for two stepping and line dancing. Lorna shook her head at the line dancers. "Lord, but who does that anymore?" she asked. "I thought that went out with the 1990's."

She turned back to Sundown. "So, I think I may have heard of your little team before," she said. "An' your name sounds familiar. Weren't you the one that shot some man to death in a parking lot?"

"Yeah," he replied. "His name was Tom Boston. I fell in love wit his ex-wife, Valerie, when she first came here. An' just last weekend, she made a final decision an' chose one of the others, Barricade."

"Wait a minute, how many others were there?" she asked.

"Four. Barricade, Mace, Bowzer an' Highway. An' Bowzer was gone long ago, an' she had already eliminated Mace an' Highway when we asked fer her decision. I was in the top two, dammit! I was _so close to gittin' her_!" Sundown pounded on her bar four times, working himself up, then started sobbing. Lorna rubbed his upper back.

"Spare me the reason why this Valerie woman picked one of your team members, and threw you away like garbage," she said. She brought his head up and made him look in her eyes. "You are one of the handsomest available men ever in this whole place. An' when I see no one else an' no wedding ring. An' someone who knows the law, too; you'd be the perfect one to run to for security an' safety. Men like you don't deserve to be lonely. An' I sure don't deserve to keep living as a widow, leaving my children fatherless. If you ask me, I think our fates have brought us together tonight."

He touched her cheeks and hair lightly. "Ev'rythin' you've said is true. I do have a capability and need to love. An' even though I wonder what my colleagues will reckon 'bout us bein' together, you've just convinced me that you deserve this like I do."

He got down from the bar, and took her down with him. Then he removed his hat, wrapped his arms her, kissed her lips as he ran his fingers through her hair. When they broke, she stared at him for a few moments.

"Oh, Sundown," she whispered, "I always knew you cowboys can be so romantic. But I'll bet you still think of me as some psychotic death penalty widow who'll scare you off when I inevitably go too far again."

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't reckon you're psychotic, or crazy. If ya ever were, them maybe I cured you of that. And maybe you need more security, too." With that, he kissed her lips again.

She broke from him and asked, "You've been watching too many romance movies, haven't you?"

Instead of answering, Sundown went back to the bar for their drinks, and gave Lorna hers. The fast song was over by the time they finished, then they heard a slow melody of guitar, drum and harmonica. They looked at all the couples on the dance floor, who suddenly went from dancing fast to slow. Sundown smiled and held out his hand for Lorna to take.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" he asked. Lorna took his hand, and they joined the others.

They danced slow for the whole song, and the next two that played, then spent most of the night dancing, going back to the tables to break for one song, making small, romantic talk, drinking soda. Certain things were clear, though – Sundown had fallen in love again, and Lorna felt like she was recovering already.

They stayed at the country until close to midnight, then when they left, knew they had to part their separate ways. "I brought my car," she said. "I assume you have your own vehicle, too."

"I do," he said. He pulled a pad of paper out of his pocket and wrote something down to give to her. "Here's my number fer ya. Why don't ya call me sometime?"

"I'd love to," she replied, then excused herself. Moments later, she came back with a piece of paper for him.

"How about you give me a call, cowboy?" she grinned. "I'll be waiting." She waved good-bye as she went back to her car.

He looked at the paper with her name and phone number, and put it in his pants pocket. He tried to concentrate as he drove back to his apartment. He would think of Lorna Waters when he got home.

* * *

Meanwhile, Cheryl had just left the Golden Gate movie theater with her kids. She said, "What say we stop for ice cream on the way home?" Danielle smiled and the boys cheered. Brett said, "Let's go, Mom." 

Cheryl and Danielle, and Brett and Jacob both saw different movies, so in the car, Cheryl said to the boys, "So, why don't you tell me about the movie you boys saw?"

"Mom, it was awesome," Jacob replied. "There was a man around late thirties, who hasn't retraced the route of Lewis and Clark yet, like tradition in his family dictates he should, even though all his brothers have. His father is this really old man who wants to know that he has done this before he dies. It starts just as the summer begins, and this man gets laid off from his job, so he sees this as the perfect opportunity to do so.

"This man has two boys of his own, around Brett's and my ages, as well as a sixteen- year-old nephew whose father did the Lewis and Clark thing when he was twenty-two years old. Of course, he thinks this would be the best thing for them to do with them, so he insists they come along with him. The really funny parts are when the younger kid is cranky and bored, especially when they stop at all the campsites. Ugh, I'm not much for camping either. It's very funny and heartwarming for a family movie."

"I'll bet if we lived in Missouri, that'd be something we could've done with Dad," Brett said.

They arrived at the nearest Dairy Queen when Jacob was through talking. When they got inside, ordered their ice cream and sat down, Danielle said, "Well, our movie wouldn't be something you'd be interested in, really. It had a group of ninja brothers in it, who were all wrongfully accused by this awful media personality of crimes they didn't commit, and are made outcasts and huge public enemies in the city. Before you get all excited, let me tell you that one of the younger ones is a fickle for love, and falls deeply in love with the young, headstrong daughter of the city's mayor. A star-crossed romance which her family fights about, but his approves, and they carry it on until they get caught. So the chick OD's on pills, and they think she's dead, and her distraught lover steals one of his brother's weapons on the morning of her funeral, then uses it mostly on himself before struggling that last little bit on her. Most unoriginal thing I've ever seen in my life."

Jacob made a gruesome face. "Eww!" he said. "Making a love story out of a movie about a group of ninja heroes?"

"And ripping script from Shakespeare at that," Danielle replied. "That wasn't a movie, that was a rip-off of _Romeo and Juliet_."

Suddenly, she spotted Mace coming into the restaurant. He was out of his uniform except for his cap and boots, wearing a black leather jacket and navy denims. She watched him order something at the counter, and nudged at her mother. "And speaking of a potential Romeo," she said, "check out that guy at the counter."

Mace turned when he received his order, and approached the side where the family was. Cheryl studied his face and immediately declared, "He's too old for you, Dani."

Danielle rolled her eyes. "Of course he wouldn't be for me, Mom. I meant for _you_."

Mace sat down across from them, and overheard Cheryl say, "Danielle, I thought I made it clear that I intended to find a police officer to date. Look at him, his clothes. Leather jacket, turtleneck and blue jeans. That doesn't look like a police uniform to me."

"Actually, ma'am," Mace said to her, "I _am _an actual police officer. In fact, I'm a member of the SWAT team. I've just got off duty fer the day."

The kids were smirking at their mother, Danielle face especially reading, "I told you so" to her. Cheryl looked quite embarrassed. "Oh, pardon my misjudgments," she told him. It's just that you're out of uniform, and you don't look like the type to be a plainclothes detective and wear something like that. Uh, would you like to sit with us?"

"Sure thing," Mace said, and Cheryl had Danielle sit with her brothers while she moved over for Mace.

She said, "Uh, my name's Cheryl. Cheryl Raleigh." She pointed at her kids. "These are my children; Danielle, she's sixteen; Jacob; he just turned thirteen last month; and Brett, who's eleven."

"Hi," all three kids chorused.

"The name is Colt Howards," Mace replied, "but everyone calls me Mace. I belong to this special crime-fighting organization, C.O.P.S. Central Organization of Police Specialists."

Cheryl thought about it, then shook her head. "Never heard of it," she said.

Mace looked somewhat discouraged. "Well, we're a group of officers with special talents very vital to police work. Like I told ya, I'm a member of SWAT. We were brought together about two years back, 'cuz the regular Empire City police force needed major help in takin' down the Big Boss an' his crooked gang." He explained the C.O.P.S.' latest case that involved Big Boss recruiting children into gangs, they'd worked on through most of the spring and summer.

It sounded quite familiar to Danielle, who immediately recalled an incident. "You know," she said, "I may have heard of this Big Boss character. Something like that happened to me, sort of. Shortly after we moved here, I went down to this donut and coffee shop to apply for a part-time job, and this tall, ugly blonde woman – reminded me of the Amazon Queen – she came in harassing some of the other teens who were working there, even some who were just there hanging out. I didn't see if she took anyone, because the owner quickly took me into the back and hid me. He explained this whole recruitment thing to me, and wouldn't even let me talk to police. Do you remember me telling you this, Mom?"

"You told me how frightened you were," Cheryl said.

Mace looked at the kids and repeated, "Tall, ugly, blonde woman? Danielle, yer talkin' about Ms. Demeanor. She's one of Big Boss' roughest henchmen – henchwoman! This may make ya laugh, boys, but this is a woman who's awfully strong an' muscular. Thankfully, she ain't as beefy as I am."

Jacob and Brett just stared at him, totally speechless.

"Forgive me for sounding ignorant, Mace," Cheryl said, "but I wouldn't know about any of this. I don't keep up with the news, at least nothing that has anything to do with police affairs. I haven't really been able to since my husband died a year ago. He was a police officer, too." She tried to keep from getting emotional as she talked about the restaurant shooting that Wayne was killed in. This only made the kids eat their ice cream faster.

"I hadn't been in any small fast food restaurant in Pittsburgh since then," she said. "I'd only regained the courage to set foot in a McDonald's restaurant just after we settled down here. And it'll take a lot for me to set foot into another Submarine World franchise."

Mace looked sympathetic for her and her children. "Cheryl, kids, I'm so sorry for yer husband an' father," he said. "He was a cop, an' that's all it takes fer him to be a good man, in my humble opinion."

Cheryl looked down at his hands and noticed no wedding band. "Um, this may sound personal, but you're not seeing anyone right now, are you, Mace?"

"Nope," he said. "I had a couple of girlfriends in the past, but they're both long gone now."

Danielle, Jacob and Brett were nodding towards their mother in encouragement. She retrieved a pen from her purse and wrote her phone number on a napkin. "Here," she said. "If you're not too busy over the next week, maybe you can give me a call. I'd love to go bowling, or to the movies with you."

"Thanks," he said. He got up to put it in his front pocket. "So, what kind of movies do ya like?"

"Mostly romance and dramas," she answered. She told of the movie she'd just come out of seeing with Danielle. The daughter rolled her eyes.

"You don't want to see it, Mace," she said. "Whoever pitched that idea obviously had no original thought. It sucked majorly."

"Danielle, you know I don't approve of that word," Cheryl lectured. "And besides the movies and bowling I suggested, I also like to go out dancing."

Mace began to think of Valerie, and the times she went dancing with him at the nightclubs. But he tried to suppress these thoughts. _No, not here, not now,_ he thought. _Save it for when you know it'll be serious._ Instead, he just said, "I did those things with my last girlfriend, too."

A few minutes later, Cheryl finished her coffee, and all their ice cream was eaten. All five of them got up and prepared to leave. Cheryl said, "It's been nice meeting you, Mace. I hope you'll call me sometime. I'd like to get to know you better."

"Me too," he agreed. "I'll see you and maybe the kids around sometime. See you everyone."

"I'll see you too," she said. "Goodbye for now."

"Bye, Mace," the kids chorused.

On their way to the car, Cheryl said to her daughter, "Danielle, thank you so much for fixing me up with him. You'll get an extra half-hour on your curfew for this."

* * *

"Mom, I've just been so busy at work lately," Janice said the next afternoon. "In the past three months, I have written up contracts for two first-time novelists, after reading both their novels, and accepting them to submit to publishers. However, with this latest one I've got, the query letter was okay, but the manuscript was something else entirely." 

She was in her suburban home the next afternoon, having coffee with her mother, Phyllis McConnell. Upon her move to Empire City, Janice was immediately recruited by her sister, Pam Gowan, a fellow literary agent, to work at the Webster and Gowan Literary Agency. She was also renting an apartment until she could find suitable housing. Now, Janice was debating with her mother about when she was going to get another boyfriend.

"Besides, Pam advised me that I need to be by myself for a while until I establish my independence," she continued. "You know, so I don't get needy for a man. And I hope you don't get mad, but I don't think I could ever date another policeman."

"I disagree with both statements, especially the latter one," Phyllis said. "Cliff may have not been the ideal partner for you, or father for Regan, but he shouldn't have to go so long without a father. He's ten years old, Janice. If I could tell you the outcome of a boy his age who doesn't have a father figure in his life, it would make you cry. Besides, you know what our family tradition dictates. Just like Cliff's family, you either become a law officer, or you marry one."

Janice looked very skeptical; she'd doubted a cop's ability to love throughout her whole divorce. Phyllis held her hand. "You really ought to take a look at your brothers, and most of your sister's husbands," the mother told her. "They are living proof that an officer of the law is capable of love, caring and understanding. Not all police officers, current or aspiring, take this line of work because they have issues and want authority, desperate to prove something. That's a horrible stereotype. You gather up a group of non-corrupt officers, and ask them why they chose this line of work. They will tell you they have the community's best interests at heart, they want to help protect the innocent, and they want to teach or youth how to be a law-abiding citizen. And they also want to give their children a model to look up to as a parent. That is something Regan should have."

"You're right, Mom," Janice said. "But where are they? Which precinct should I go to?"

"Well, have you ever heard of the Central Organization of Police Specialists?" Phyllis asked. "You must have. I'm sure your brothers have told you about their capers when you've called them just to talk."

"I hear about that team about five times a week or so," Janice said. "It's either through the news or word of mouth. Seems every time I talk to brothers Jeff, Trevor or Mark, it's to tell me about Bulletproof and his men and women. Thank God Pam and Becky don't tell me anything about them. It's as if some of our own work at Precinct 647. It gets irritating, Mom. And I got all the names of this Big Boss character and his little minions; there on my list of men to avoid."

"The C.O.P.S. may have a tough exterior on duty in their crime-fighting, but they know some things about caring for the interests of other people," Phyllis informed her. "And last time I spoke with Jeff, he told me some interesting gossip about them."

Janice folded her arms, looking unimpressed. She was never the type of woman to be interested in gossip. "Oh, really?" she asked.

"Yes." Phyllis drank more coffee. "A group of them just became single again after this one woman chose their colleague for a long-term relationship."

"You mean Valerie Boston?" Janice asked. "I saw that _Eye on Empire City_ interview that Jeff said I had to watch. I thought that woman was a pure slut. Who the hell dates four men at the same time, never mind the fact they were all law officers?"

She finished her coffee and left the table. "But if you think someone on the C.O.P.S. team might be good for me, then I'll take your advice. Can you watch Regan for a few hours?"

"You know I'd love to," Phyllis answered.

She went to her son, Regan, who was finishing up his Math homework at the dining table. "I'm just going to go out for a few hours," she told him. "Be good for Grandma and finish your homework, okay?" She kissed the top of his head and left.

She decided to bring back some donuts, so Regan could have dessert with dinner tonight. She went to another borough of the city, to a donut shop called Sweet Marie's. When she went inside, she saw a man with hair the color of chocolate standing alone at a cash register. He was carrying a motorcycle helmet with visors in one arm, and was dressed in a standard state patrol uniform. Janice could see the right side of his face as he waited for his order, and thought he looked familiar, like he was on television.

It was C.O.P.S. Patrolman David "Highway" Harlson. Janice certainly thought he looked handsomely gorgeous. She approached him with some confidence and smiled at him.

"Hey, I know about you," she said. "Aren't you Highway Harlson from that C.O.P.S. team? My family is a bunch of law enforcers from around here. They talk about you guys all the time."

"Is that so?" Highway replied. "And you are…"

"Janice Dalhousie," she replied.

Soon, Highway's order, a variety pack of twenty donuts arrived. Janice smiled and asked, "Those for the C.O.P.S. headquarters?"

"Uh-huh," he replied, then took some extra money from his wallet. "So, uh, Janice, what would you like to order? It's on me."

"You're so sweet, Highway, thank you," she cooed, then turned to the cashier. "Two chocolate fudge donuts to go, and maybe I'll have a blueberry muffin and hot chocolate for here."

"And I'll have a Boston crème for here," Highway ordered.

They found two vacant tables together, and put their orders to go on one of them, sat down at the other. Janice was flirting with Highway a bit as she said, "So, Highway, tell me a little more about yourself."

He cleared his throat and said, "Well, first of all, Highway is a code name given to me when I first joined C.O.P.S. My real name is David."

"David," she repeated. "That's a cute name." She buttered her muffin and took a bite.

Highway blushed a little. "Yeah, well, before I was invited to join C.O.P.S. as a highway patrolman, I'd spent my whole law enforcement career doing just that, in the state of California."

"California?" Janice repeated again. "I just moved here from California four months ago."

"San Francisco?"

"Los Angeles."

Highway looked to be preoccupied by thought. "Hmm, there's not much to tell about me, career-wise," he said. "You already know quite a bit about the C.O.P.S. and what we do. I guess that last thing you should know is that I drive a special motorbike that goes really fast, called the Bluestreak. You've never seen it, have you?"

"No," Janice said. She swallowed another bite of muffin. "But I do remember seeing you on that primetime show, _Eye on Empire City_, with that woman, Valerie Boston, and three of your colleagues; Sundown, Barricade and Mace. And here you are at that register alone. Where's Valerie?"

Highway sighed and answered, "Romantically, she's out of my life. We all asked for her final decision, and she picked Barricade. Oh, well. I never could impress her family, so I guess it was never meant to be."

Janice was amused to hear that Highway was still available. She took his hand and said, "You know, I'm available, too. I just got a divorce, finalized before I moved here. I have three sons, but I only have custody of one, my youngest, Regan. The other two, Roderick and Rydell, are still living in California with my ex-husband, their father, Cliff. Also, I'm a literary agent, as is my sister, Pam. She co-owns an agency here, and recruited me to work with her when I came here."

"That's great," Highway said. Then, "Uh, how come you're caring for one son, and you left the other two behind where you used to live?"

"That was left up to the divorce judge," Janice answered. "See, Cliff is a police officer, just like you and your C.O.P.S. buddies, as well as my father and paternal uncles, my brothers and one sister, and all the rest of my sisters' husbands, and the same is with Cliff. It's a big tradition in both our families, as you can tell. Rod and Rydell were eager to follow it and become cops themselves. Regan, however, has lived with cerebral palsy since birth, and no way can he be like the rest of the family. Unfortunately, only mine could understand this."

She told Highway about how she encouraged Regan to be a writer, the abuse he suffered from his father because of this, and all the fights Cliff and Janice would have over him, how Cliff and his family could never be persuaded. "My God, even the police chief could understand that Regan couldn't be a cop, for fuck's sake!" she complained. "But, no, it had to be the Dalhousie man's way or no way. Assholes, that's what they are!" She ate more of her muffin and guzzled her hot chocolate to console herself.

Then, Highway looked at his watch and gasped. "Oh, no!" he cried. "Look at the time! Bulletproof will be looking for me!" He retrieved his box of donuts. "Listen, Janice, it's been nice meeting you, but I have to get going. Thank God I have a fast motorbike."

"Wait!" Janice said. "At least let me give you my number so we can talk later." Highway pulled out his traffic ticket pad and ripped off a sheet.

"It's 717-5361," she said. "Why don't you give me a call in the next couple of days?"

"I'd love to," he replied, then kissed her cheek. "Talk to you later." He rushed out of the shop.

Janice sat back down to finish her muffin. Her hot chocolate, she decided to take in her car with her donuts. She was smiling brightly. She couldn't wait to tell her mother and son of the new love she found.

* * *

Meanwhile, at Empire City Park, Debra and her daughters were jogging through the pathways. Stephanie was able to keep up with her mother, but they would look back once in a while to see Emma a few feet behind. 

"Pick up the pace, Emma!" Stephanie called. "Be faster! This is a power run for exercise."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" her sister said. "I'm not as tall or athletic as you, Stephanie!"

Debra and Stephanie ran past a part where another path crossed three-way, and were at least twenty feet away when they heard a dog barking and Emma screaming. Emma ran a little faster this time, and screamed, "Help! I'm being chased by a big robot dog." They saw a cybernetic canine with a police siren on his back running after her. Emma ran to the nearest tree, trying to climb it, but she couldn't. She tried to hide behind it, but the dog found her and kept barking at her.

Debra and Stephanie nearly jumped when a man next to them yelled at his dog, "Blitz! Heel! Come here!" The dog obediently came to his master.

Debra stared at the dog owner. The man had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a thick black mustache. He wore a red track suit with white runners. "Good heavens, man, you didn't need to yell like that!" she criticized. "My daughter and I are right here! We could've gone deaf!"

He looked at them and gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am. It's just that Blitz here is very partial to runners."

"He's very cool-looking," Stephanie said.

Emma peeked from behind the tree to see her chaser far away from her. But when Blitz saw her coming back, he immediately ran up to her again, barking. She looked frightened again.

"But, unfortunately, he scares my little sister," Stephanie continued.

"I think he likes her," the man said. "Look at him hopping around her. I think he just wants to play."

Debra saw this as a sign, and smiled and said to him, "My name is Debra. Debra Janeway. This is my older daughter, Stephanie, and the one that Blitz is interested in is my younger daughter, Emma."

"Rex Pointer," the man replied. "I'm a K-9 officer, originally from Chicago. But at the precinct here where I work, everyone calls me Bowzer."

"Oh, is that some kind of code name?" Stephanie guessed. "That's also cool!"

"I got it when I was named the K-9 handler with C.O.P.S.," he said, and explained his work with the headquarters.

Debra smiled and replied, "Well, look at what we have in common, uh, Bowzer. My girls and I moved here from Chicago just this summer, and my husband was a K-9 officer as well. Officer Keith Janeway. Do you remember working with him?"

Bowzer shook his head. "Nope, never met him," he answered. "I think I was in a different precinct."

"Keith was a wonderful man," she said. "We had a German Shepherd named Dodger, he called him his little assistant." She lowered her head a bit. "Both of them were killed by some drug-obsessed punks almost a year ago. In fact, I think the first anniversary is less than a month away."

"Now that I think about it," Bowzer said, "I think I was at his funeral." He rubbed Debra's back. "Debra, I'm so sorry for what happened."

"Oh, but you should've seen the girls," Debra told him. "Never mind their father, they were even more upset when I told them Dodger was killed. Stephanie especially; she was the one that went jogging with him all the time."

He looked at her and the girls. All he could do was hug them all as a group.

Bowzer then decided to take Blitz and run with Debra, Stephanie and Emma. Debra said, "I want to know a little more about you, Bowzer. Do you always go running here in the park on your time off? You should; it's so beautiful here? And do you have a girlfriend?"

"Not all the time," Bowzer said. "There's also this trial on the outskirts of town that Blitz likes to go to. I only come here at times like this, when the fall colors are plentiful. And I don't have a girlfriend either, though I did date quite a bit. My last girlfriend had to break up with me, and it actually jeopardized my law enforcement career."

"What?" Debra said. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm currently on a month's paid suspension by judge's orders when I was accused of sexually assaulting her."

Debra didn't have to think about it; hearing about sexual assault immediately turned her off. "Okay," she said, then gathered her daughters up. "It was nice meeting you, Bowzer." She started ahead of him, but he frantically grabbed her arm.

"Wait!" he cried, and they stopped running. "Debra, please! Just give me a chance to explain."

Debra turned to Stephanie and said, "Stephanie, take Emma and run straight ahead of us. Stop and wait when you get to the end and see a crossing." She nodded and took her sister's hand.

"Now," Debra said to Bowzer, "explain this business about sexually assaulting your last girlfriend."

"Her name was Valerie," he replied. "Valerie Boston. I was one of five members of my C.O.P.S. team that she was dating these past few months. I was the one who got the least attention of them all, saw her the least, and before the alleged assault, I think I may have slept with her only once."

He spent close to an hour telling of his colleagues' boastings of their achievements, Blitz's attack on Jeremy Boston, how despairing he got after Valerie's threesome date with Sundown and Highway, what happened when he brought her to his house, all the confrontations at C.O.P.S. headquarters, and the inquiry with the main chief Stephen Irons.

"And it all led up to this," he concluded. "I go back to work on the twenty-ninth of this month, but it's only during the week. When I get back to work, I have to devote weekends to community service until I've served one hundred fifty hours. Then, my life will be back to normal."

Debra was disgusted. "Are you telling me you went through all this shit because you kept getting shafted by a cop-chasing slut?!" she demanded. "Oh, I can't wait to meet this Valerie Boston woman! I don't care how beautiful she is, you deserve better!" She was batting her eyes and being flirtatious for a few moments, touching his cheek lightly."

"I think I see where this is going," Bowzer said, then he and Blitz started running again. "Come on, we have to find your girls." They ran two miles to the end of the path, where they found a three-way crossing. There they found Stephanie and Emma sitting on the grass, and the girls stood up when they saw them.

"About time you guys showed up!" Stephanie said. "Shall we go left or right?" They looked both ways, the left way seemed longer, so they ran in that direction.

* * *

That night, just after the children went to bed, Marilyn's phone rang. She was in her living room; though she had three phones with the standard video screen attached, her living room phone was what she answered most often because it had a caller ID device attached. The caller ID read _H. Forward_. She answered and saw Bullseye's image on the screen. 

"Bullseye, hello," she said. "What's up?"

"I just returned from another afternoon/evening shift," Bullseye answered, "and I thought I'd try again at calling you. I called you up this morning, and you weren't home. Where were you, church or something?"

"Oh no," she replied. "Some of the people from work invited all the new recruits to a 'getting to know you' breakfast for today two days ago, then all us women went for a Sunday shopping spree. I was gone for about five hours. Justin said you'd called, but when I called back, you didn't answer your phone. I assumed you went to serve another shift; obviously, I was right."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to know if you were free either Thursday or Friday night to dinner," Bullseye said. "There's a buffet place, Family Choices, that I think your kids would love. I'd love it if I could get the chance to know all of you."

Marilyn touched her throat lightly, feeling as if he'd reached his hand out of the screen to touch her. "Bullseye, I'd love to have dinner with you, and bring my kids. As a matter of fact, I'm free both evenings. Thanks for inviting me. I accept. Will Thursday at five do?" She secretly hoped she'd get an advertising project done by then.

"Of course," he said. "I just hope I can keep that time open."

"Perhaps you can come over a few days before, so I can introduce you to my kids," she suggested.

Bullseye smiled. "I'd love to, Marilyn."

When she hung up, she turned on her TV to find a romantic movie. Something to inspire her. She knew Bullseye was interested enough to call her when he said. She thought of how romantic and charming he might be, too.


	3. Some First Dates Gone Awry

Author's Note: As of the completion of this chapter, some strenuous C.O.P.S. news has revealed that the sales of the first DVD box set for this cartoon (in which the first anniversary of the release is coming up) have been so poor, Shout Factory was actually thinking about not releasing the rest of the series. But you as C.O.P.S fans can prevent this travesty. A fan of this show with her own fanart blog (I call her Crazyharp) has set up a petition at gopetition-dot-com requesting that Shout Factory release the rest of the series on DVD. Simply go to that website, click on "Television" in the Entertainment category, and look for the petition called "More C.O.P.S. on DVD." I encourage anyone who is reading this to go there and put your signature on, telling SF you want to see the rest of the series to capture episodes you have never seen and more. I have already signed it, and it gives me the option to send it to up to 10 people, so if you wish, you can leave me a note either in your review, or at my e-mail address (it's in my profile), and I will send the petition to you for signing.

Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own the series or characters from the show, just my OC's and the plot. Also, I claim no ownership or writing credit to the following songs mentioned: Promiscuous, (Nelly Furtado f/ Timbaland) Outside, (George Michael) Black Velveteen (Lenny Kravitz) and No Heaven (DJ Champion) Mojave Street and Dancing Alana, however, are of my own creation as artists we have yet to see on the music scene.… LOL!

* * *

Chapter 3

On Monday evening, the phones in Cheryl's house rang. Thinking it was one of her new friends from school, Danielle ran to the kitchen phone screaming, "I got it, I got it! I think it's for me!" She didn't bother checking the caller I.D.; she quickly became disappointed when she saw Mace's image on the video screen.

"Oh… hi, Mace," she said.

"Danielle?" he wondered, then his look turned disapproving. "Well, thanks fer the warm greetin'."

"Sorry," she said. "It's just that Heather Dalby from school, she was supposed to call me when she had her dinner, and I've been sitting here waiting." She sighed. "Look, I suppose you want to speak to Mom, right?" She called for her mother, and when she came, smirked as she gave her the phone.

Cheryl smiled when she saw Mace. "Mace, hi," she said. "I was hoping to hear from you."

"Yeah, well, it's been nuts since yesterday, an' I have another shift to serve back at the precinct soon," Mace explained. "Listen, Cheryl, I just checked my schedule fer this week, an' I'm free this Friday night. I'm thinkin' you an' me can bowl a few games, then we can hit a nightclub fer some dancin'. You up fer it?"

"Love to," she said. "Will seven-thirty be all right for you?" She retrieved her pocket calendar.

"Seven-thirty sounds just fine," he said.

After she wrote it in, Cheryl began to grin at Mace, attempting to be flirtatious. "So," she said, "As long as we're still talking now, I think it's time we tried to develop feelings for one another. Seriously, what were your first impressions of me when you first spoke to me two nights ago?"

"Aw, so ya wanna git into the sweet-talkin', do ya?" he grinned back, winking. "Listen, as much as I'd love to now, how about we save it fer the date?"

Cheryl started picturing the date, especially the club. "Oh, how can we let out how we really feel among the sounds of crashing pins and loud rock and techno music?" she asked. "I'm not saying this is a bad idea, but for us to talk like this requires a more intimate atmosphere. Lights dim, slow jazzy music, that sort of thing. Don't you at least have a day off sometime this week? Maybe you can come over to my house beforehand. I certainly would like to get to know you a bit better."

"So would I," Mace agreed. "I guess I can talk to Bulletproof about this. I'd need a full day off this week, anyway. If I keep workin' whole shifts back-to-back like this, I'm gonna drop dead from exhaustion."

Cheryl laughed at this thought. "A big, tough, muscular man dropping dead from exhaustion," she repeated. "That's an oxymoronic thought."

"Hey, I may have a bundle of energy, but I ain't no Superman."

"I should've known that."

He smiled and said, "Listen, I have to head out. It was nice talkin' to ya, Cheryl. So, I'll see ya Friday night or a couple days before, okay? Love ya."

"I love you too, Mace," she said. "I'll be seeing you."

She hung up and went to the living room. She saw Danielle talking to Jacob in the living room about her and Mace. Danielle said, "I'm serious, Jake. Mom told Mace she wants to get to know him better. If he comes over here, they might just get close enough for some necking."

"Danielle Jocelyn Raleigh!" her mother called. "You know better than to bother your brother and distract him when he's doing his homework! Don't you have some of your own to do, young lady?"

"Checkmate, you got me," she sighed, and returned to reading from her English textbook.

* * *

The next day, Lorna was looking through the Help Wanted newspaper ads again. She had been living in a two-bedroom apartment for a few weeks now, yet she could not find any work. She was clipping ads for opportunities to start her own business from home, but wanted one more chance to find something outside of the home. She reflected on her years as a housewife. Maybe either a catering business or a maid service. 

She heard the doorbell buzzing sound, then went to the door and called, "Who is it?"

"It's Sundown, my darlin'," came the voice from the hallway. Lorna looked through her peephole to see the same tanned face, curled mustache and cowboy hat she saw at the Cavalier. She opened the door and gasped at the black sport jacket and pants he wore with a white turtleneck. In his left hand, he held a single red rose.

"Oh, good heavens," she breathed. "Sundown, you're even more handsome than you were at the club Saturday night." She took his offering. "Are you sure you're a Texas Sheriff, or are you really a cover model for those sophisticated men's magazines that Jackson's always subscribing to?"

Sundown laughed as Lorna took him inside. "Of course I used to be a Texas Sheriff," he reminded her. "I just like to dress up a bit fer a lady, that's all." He kissed her lightly on her mouth.

She looked at the clock above her dining table. It was close three o'clock. She asked, "What brings you here at this time of day? Don't you have a shift to serve? Or maybe you have a graveyard shift tonight, or are you off for the day?"

"I do have the day off shift today," Sundown replied. "But I hafta be up bright an' early tomorrow mornin'. I reckoned maybe I'd spend all this evenin' wit you an' yer boys."

"That's very thoughtful of you," Lorna replied. "The rose, too. Thank you."

He noticed the newspaper on the living room coffee table. He looked at the job opportunities that Lorna had circled; a hotel chambermaid at three major hotels, a waitress at Toretti Family Pizza, a cashier at a department store at a nearby mall. She had also circled an ad asking for landscapers, which Sundown wondered about.

"What, landscapin'?" he asked. "Sweetheart, how long have you been mowin' lawns and pullin' up weeds?"

"I know it sounds crazy, don't it?" Lorna agreed as she added the water to two cups of instant coffee. "It was Stuart that took care of all the yard work before he was apprehended for serial murder. Since then, I'd been the one mowing the lawn, and I had the boys raking it afterwards."

"An' how old are the boys again?"

"Bobby's thirteen and Riley's ten." Lorna served the coffee, and before Sundown could ask, she said, "Some years ago, when Bobby was four, there was this news story about a twelve-year-old who mangled one of his feet when it accidentally got caught in the family's lawn mower. All the toes were cut off. I worry about the boys quite a bit, so Stuart and I agreed that they were never allowed the mow the lawn. I wouldn't want that happening to either one of them."

Sundown looked up at the wall unit. Just above the television were various pictures of the Waters family. He approached them to look at them all. There was a picture of Stuart and Lorna posed with their party on their wedding day, a five-by-seven photograph of the Waters family; when Bobby was a toddler and Riley was still an infant, the boys' school pictures from the year before, and a picture of a shirtless Stuart posing with the boys on their home driveway; with a flashy sports car in the background.

"You honestly reckoned Stuart Waters was a good man, didn't you, Lorna?" Sundown asked.

"Oh, Sundown, I could sing of his love forever," she gushed. "He was especially so kindly with the boys, and I know you may think it's bunk, but that's how the boys were so well-behaved. Of course, they were never known to just sit in front of the TV when he was home. Some members of my family went so far as to say they were _too _well-behaved. Anyway, if he was outside doing something, washing his car, cleaning out the garage, even preparing to go running when they could, they always wanted to do it with him. However, Stuart would never be wearing a shirt when he washed the car, so what the boys and even I did, we would try to sneak the water hose out of his hands, let him chase us to get it back, then we'd spray him to see how soaked we'd git him. It looked so funny, and Stuart would look so cute after."

He sat back down with her and held both her hands. "An' those feelin's never went away when he was found guilty of all those murders?"

She shook her head rapidly, feeling as if she may get emotional, and took a drink of her coffee. "No, how could they? Stuart was a loving, caring, gentle soul. All those pro-spanking advocates he killed, they just looked at us and thought we were doing all sorts of things wrong. Some even told us this, that we were ruining our children. I mean, just because you don't paddle yer children fer every little mistake, it don't make you a bad parent. They were just too ignorant to see that."

He held her to keep her from crying. "I can see what yer sayin', my dear," he said softly. "It's just like those neighborhoods I regularly got calls from when I just a young buck lawman. Domestic violence an' child abuse reports, an' the situations were just ugly. Parents who'd do nothing but drink, all the while screamin' at their kids. An' if they don't beat 'em senseless or injure 'em somehow 'til they're cryin', they're hurlin' their bottles at the wall, narrowly missin' 'em. I tell these folks they shouldn't be doin' that, an' they just sneer at me, and tell me I shouldn't talk, 'cuz I don't have kids of my own. It's ridiculous."

Lorna became even more interested than before. "You don't have kids of your own?" she repeated. She touched the back of his hand. "Well, I think you'd be a wonderful father."

"Yeah, I reckon I would. Though I've never dated much before, y'know, Valerie." He'd remembered the summer vacation he had with Valerie's son, Jeremy, and suddenly felt a little sad again. He knew he'd still have that bond if only she'd chosen _him._

She touched his face so he could look at her. "You're just gonna love Bobby an' Riley," she told him. "I guarantee it. They're smart an' attentive, an' if you could bond with them, perhaps you can help them be happy enough to be _perfectly_ well-behaved."

Sundown looked at her funny. "I reckoned you said they'd improved their behavior after some school counselin'."

"Yeah, well, they still have some way to go, the way I see it." Lorna took another drink of her coffee. "We'd been living with my cousin Tammy-Lynn all summer, before she found us this apartment. It ain't much, but at least the boys are enjoying sharing a room." She coughed a little bit. "Anyway, Tammy's just gotten divorced, and though she has a son of her own, there's no man in the picture. My other cousin, Jackson, he's popped over on some Saturdays with his boys, if not for us, then it's chiefly to spend time with the boys. He's got a job that keeps him twelve hours a day, an' with a wife an' four children, there's not much room in that house for the three of us."

She opened the sliding glass doors, and stepped onto the balcony, staring at the fall afternoon view of the city. "It may also have something to do with the fact that they had to leave behind close family members back in Texas. I have three brothers who still live in Austin an' Houston. Every other weekend since Stuart was gone, I would ship the boys off to one of them, just so they aren't lacking a father figure. Of course, that was when school was in session. That first spring break after Stuart was incarcerated, I sent Bobby an' Riley off to spend it with my brother, Travis; he's the one from Austin. Summer vacations were spent in Houston, divided between my other brothers, Steve an' Kirby. They never would tell me their system, but I always believed it was one month with one brother, one with the other. That would be easier. An' once in a while, my father would stop by to take them fishing." She looked to see Sundown joining her on the balcony. "I know they miss them all terribly, an' their families, aunts an' cousins, an' it's all because we were exiled from Texas, destined to never go back."

Sundown began to have some silent thoughts. Perhaps if a real Texan sheriff like him were to marry Lorna, it might give her and her sons a pardon for return, on the condition that he accompany them every visit.

"Lorna," he said, "y'know I'd love to serve as a father figure fer Bobby an' Riley. After all, I had a special bondin' wit a lil' boy m'self. His name was Jeremy. You remember me talkin' 'bout Valerie Saturday night at the Cavalier? Jeremy's her boy." He turned her head towards his face. "I take it yer boys are still at school?"

"For another hour or so," she replied.

They sat at the coffee table again. Sundown decided to tell Lorna about his relationships with Valerie and Jeremy. He told her about the police picnic in which he and the other C.O.P.S. met both of them, the abuse that both mother and son suffered at Tom Boston's hands, Valerie's career accomplishments, Jeremy's syndrome, and how beautiful and special they both were.

"You oughta meet Valerie," he told her. "I swear, I reckoned she was the most beautiful woman to ever wander into a man's life. Long, silky blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, legs that stretched all the way to heaven, an' a body so beautiful, you'd wanna take her ev'ry time ya saw her. An' I loved her son so much. Sure, you might reckon he's a bit much, but it was all due to that syndrome he had. Much of the bad behavior couldn't be helped. All he ever wanted an' needed was that special kind of love that'd make other kids spoiled."

He told her all about their summer vacation in Texas and Arizona, the highlights at the Alamo and the Grand Canyon. "An' you should've seen Jeremy at the Canyon. It was as if that was his wish for that Make-A-Wish Foundation. He loved it. An' he loved me fer takin' him there."

But Lorna looked a little confused. "Okay, this Valerie has a successful career in advertising, an' she has an infirm son," she said. "Who was looking after the boy all this time, taking him to the doctor an' all that stuff?"

"Danged if I know who did it back in Parrish," Sundown answered, "but she has her sister, Karen, here in Empire City. Why d'ya ask?"

"'Cuz I would argue that she should've quit her job an' be a full-time mother," Lorna replied quickly. "Especially a kid like a Shaken Baby Syndrome survivor needs 'round-the-clock care. I know her husband wasn't the affectionate type, but she could at least try to change him."

She then thought back to her father's words about divorce, about how physical abuse was one of the few acceptable reasons to do so. "On second thought, maybe she did the right thing, if she couldn't change this Tom. But my opinion on _her_ staying at home with him still stands. She should've at least thought of starting her own online advertising firm. If you could introduce me to her, I'll talk to her about it."

Sundown looked at Lorna's chosen job opportunities again. He thought back to Saturday night. He said, "Lorna, didn't ya say somethin' 'bout how you've been here since summer, an' can't find a job anywhere?"

"How thoughtful, you think I should work from home," Lorna guessed. "Actually, Tammy-Lynn thinks I should do something that will get me out of the home during the day. The only problem, whenever I send out my résumé with my cover letter describing my capabilities, I either don't hear from them, or I get a call from the hiring manager with some lame excuse as to why he's rejecting me immediately. I was saying this to both Tammy an' Jackson when they were at the house on Labor Day weekend. Jackson actually thinks that maybe I should start a home based business, but Tammy was adamant with her thoughts. She argued that I'd been a housewife fer twelve years, and it's time for me to see what life's like outside the home."

She took out various ingredients to prepare for dinner. The stewing beef she had put in water had almost thawed. "Bobby an' Riley should be home soon," she said. "I'll start dinner when they get here."

At just quarter after four, she heard Bobby and Riley coming in. Just after they'd hung their jackets up, they saw Sundown getting up to approach them, smiling. Lorna noticed very confusing looks on the boys.

Bobby pointed at the sheriff and asked, "Uh, Ma, who's that supposed to be?"

She looked cheerful as she approached the boys. "Boys," she said, "I'd like you to meet Walker Calhoun, but he prefers it if you call him Sundown." She turned to Sundown. "Sundown, these are my sons, Bobby an' Riley."

The sheriff smiled at them and said, "Howdy, boys."

"Hi, uh, Sundown," Bobby replied nervously.

"Sundown?" Riley repeated. "What kind of name is that?"

"He belongs to the Central Organization of Police Specialists, dear, here in town," Lorna answered. "Remember two days ago, when you pressed me fer details about the night before, an' I told you that I finally met a really handsome man at a country club an' fell in love? That's him." She glanced at her new beau and excused herself, escorting her sons to the bathroom.

"Now, boys," she started, "I hope ya don't mind, but he dropped by here a couple of hours ago, an' he wants to spend this evening getting to know us. So of course, he'll be staying fer dinner. I sincerely hope you'll be polite towards him, for me, at least."

Bobby looked worried. "I'm thinking maybe this Sundown man is out to replace our Dad," he told her.

"I don't doubt that at all," Lorna wanted to say. But she didn't want to be negative towards her new love. So she said, "Look, he seems to be a friendly, kind an' understanding man. Please give him a chance, okay?"

Bobby and Riley nodded solemn promises, and their mother escorted them out.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," she said when she saw Sundown again. "Just giving the kids some encouragement to warm up to you."

"It's all right," Sundown replied. But just as he was about to ask them something, he saw them preparing their schoolbooks. Bobby went to the bedroom he shared with his brother; Riley went to the dining table.

Riley caught Sundown's peeved look. "Sorry," he said to him, "but we gotta do our homework before dinner. You understand, don't ya?"

Sundown looked interested. "What kind is it? Maybe I can help."

"I have to label this detailed map of the Western Cordillera – mountains, rivers, deserts, cities," Riley explained, "then a few Math questions about decimals. Should be able to handle it."

Sundown went down the hall to the boys' bedroom. "Bobby!" he called. "What kinda homework d'ya have? Ya need my help?"

Lorna decided to get started on dinner. Neither she nor Riley heard from Sundown for the next half-hour. The younger boy managed to finish his homework in that time. And just as he was putting his books away, Sundown appeared again, and was staring right at him. He approached the boy, and gently put his hand on his shoulder, nodding towards the living room sofa.

"Come sit wit me, my boy," Sundown said. "I reckon we need to have a man-to-man talk."

Riley could somewhat sense what this would be about, and said, "Uh, Sundown, I'm thinking Bobby's still doing his homework. If you want to talk about our Dad, shouldn't Bobby be involved in this somehow? I think this should wait until after dinner."

Sundown nodded. "Yer right, Riley," he said softly. "How foolish I was to not think of Bobby in this."

He took Riley out to the balcony to look at the view. The sun was just starting to set now. Riley sighed as he stared at the numerous buildings obscuring the colorful sky. He started to feel a little chilled, too; the late afternoon fall weather being cooler than what it is in Texas. Sundown could see this homesick look, and walked over to hold him close.

"You miss yer home, don't ya?" he asked. "You miss bein' wit all the friends an' family that you love. Believe me, I know that feelin'. When I first came here, I just despised all the noise an' distractions, an' all the other disadvantages of this modern, bustlin' megalopolis. And you'll never feel at home here, will ya?"

Riley shook his head.

"Neither will I, son," Sundown replied. "But what ya need to understand is that both you an' I were brought here fer different reasons. An' while I can return to my home state when my schedule permits, you an' yer brother an' yer mama can never return, as dictated by the law. Luckily, I adjusted the best I could, by brandin' my own Texas style of justice, as well as keepin' in touch wit my family. All I wanna know is how yer mama an' brother will adjust. I'd love to lend y'all a helping hand." He held Riley in his arms, hoping it would comfort him.

Lorna had been watching all this, and admired Sundown's treatment towards Riley. Warm, caring, affectionate. She walked towards her new man and took his hand. She looked at Riley. He was holding Sundown's other hand, looking at him like he wanted to bond with him badly.

"Oh, Sundown, I never knew how wise you are," she cooed. "You probably meant this to be private, but I couldn't help but to overhear." She was touching his cheek lightly and staring into his eyes now. "Oh, but you'd make a wonderful father for the boys. Maybe just as wonderful as Stuart had been."

Sundown gave a look that was a little disapproving. _How can a man like yer husband be so wonderful if he killed other innocent folks? _he thought.

"Maybe you reckoned Stuart was a good husband an' father," he told her. He led her into the kitchen and whispered so Riley wouldn't hear him. "But I want yer boys to understand what kinda man he really was."

Suddenly, they heard the television playing what sounded like a talk show, and they saw Riley just staring aimlessly, not looking like he was paying attention. Sundown turned it off and looked to see if Bobby had finished his homework and would come out. He never came out until dinner was ready.

Dinner that evening consisted of a stewing beef and rice casserole made of onions and cream of mushroom soup. "My mama made this fer the family once every two weeks," Lorna said as she served everyone. "I haven't made this since we left Texas, and thought it was about time I did so."

"Looks just scrumptious," Sundown commented, then tasted a forkful of stewing beef and rice. "Tastes scrumptious, too."

"Thank you," Lorna replied.

He ate another forkful, then turned to her. "So, how 'bout you tell me a little bit more 'bout yer boys? Anythin' in particular that they like to do?"

Lorna smiled and pointed at Bobby. "This one likes to keep active. He skateboarded with Jackson's kids this summer, an' plays baseball and basketball, an' even likes to challenge all his cousins to races. He did that all the time when they were with my brothers." She looked directly at Riley. "This one's not so interested in sports. He's more artistic an' knowledgeable. His favorite subjects include Social Studies, including geography. His specialties in that are exotic locations an' world cities. He also likes Language Arts, Art an' computers. Science an' history, on the other hand, bore him, and I have the report cards to prove all this. But Riley loves writing small prose an' poetry, reading an' watching movies, an' also enjoys making his own stamps. He's been doing that since he was six."

"Don't they have anythin' they like doin' together?" Sundown asked.

"Yeah, now that I think about it," Lorna replied. "Both of them like to go swimming. The recreation center in town, they have leisure swimming every weekend, and either Tammy-Lynn or Jackson an' I would take all our kids, and we'd supervise with all the other parents. Sometimes, when Jackson came, he'd have on his swim trunks and be in the pool with them all, playing games, and he'd tell me to go relax in the Jacuzzi."

She noticed her new love looking upset, as if he wasn't even paying attention. She looked concerned and asked, "Is something the matter?"

Sundown shook his head. "No, it's just that, well…" He took her hand and looked like a sad puppy dog in her eyes. "You said these boys like to go swimmin'. My darlin', I'm afraid, I can't swim at all."

"Well, that's too bad," Lorna said. "This building has a swimming pool, sauna an' workout room. Mind you, I'm only renting this place out until I can find a home fer the three of us. Maybe one with a built-in pool in the backyard fer the boys."

Sundown groaned a little. Sure he could play some games with Bobby, and teach Riley some things about Texan history, at least. But unless he could learn how to swim, there'd be no way he could bond with them together.

He looked at Riley again, and turned to Lorna. "Lorna, just how is Riley when it comes to learnin' new things? I reckon maybe I should take him to a history museum or somethin'. Maybe if I show him a few things 'bout the Wild West, he'd be a lil' more interested."

She turned to her younger son. "Would you give this a try, Riley?"

He nodded with interest. "Show me a few western flicks, an' I just may be a little motivated," he answered. He gave Sundown an interested smile, eager to have a relationship with him. He ate two more big forkfuls of food.

After dinner, Sundown took the boys to the living room, placed them on the sofa, sat down in between them. He pulled them closer to him and said, "Now, I want you boys to tell me all you remembered an' loved 'bout yer father. Think back to those times before he was thrown to the hoosegow an' executed fer murder."

Bobby sighed a little as everything about this returned to his mind. "I liked how he always wanted to bond with us both," he said. "I may not remember much about when I was a baby, but what I do remember was when I stopped being breastfed, an' started with the bottle. Whenever it was time fer my feeding, Dad would always be the one to prepare my bottle an' give it to me. Then he'd sit in the dining room an' prop me up against him, his chest hair in my ear, and smile naturally as I drank my milk. Then, later on, when I needed to be burped, he just put my chin on his bare shoulder, and let me spit up on his back."

Lorna emerged from the kitchen to join them for a minute. "He'd do the same thing with Riley, too," she said. "He always insisted on feeding them so I could get my sleep. He was always generous like that. Of course, it cost him twenty minutes of sleep every night, but he was known to thrive on six hours every night. An' just as he'd sleep in his underpants with no shirt, that's how he looked when he fed them, too. He'd always take off his shirt whenever he went to burp them; he hated getting spit up on his clothes."

Bobby stared at the picture of him and Riley with their father. "If there's one thing I admired about Dad," he said, "it's the way he always kept a strong, fit body, exercising, running, lifting weights. Look at him, Sundown. That's exactly how I want to be when I grow up. That's how I got my love of fitness an' staying active."

"Unfortunately, I won't let them go to a public gym or experiment with weights until they're at least fourteen," Lorna said, then went back to the kitchen. "Don't worry, Bobby, you'll have at least six more months to wait!"

Sundown looked at Riley, and the younger boy told him, "I was always the dreamy one. Most nights, I would have these beautiful dreams with me an' Daddy in them. We'd always go on exciting, daring adventures. Skysurfing over an exotic vacation destination, admiring the view below, or deep-sea diving in search for sunken treasure, and we'd still be able to breathe underwater without tanks an' scuba gear. Of course, I know you can't breathe underwater without those things; that's why they're dreams. Anyway, I would always tell Daddy about my dreams, and he'd listen intentionally. Sometimes, he'd even tell me he had the same dream, too, like he was actually there with me. At bedtime, he'd tell me stories of wild adventures that a father an' son would share. Of course, he'd leave them nameless, but I knew he was talking about him an' me." He lowered his head a bit. "I never really started having nightmares until after he was gone. I'd wake up an' scream an' cry on school nights, an' Mom would be there to comfort me – never Daddy. I'd wished he'd be the one to hold me, tell me I was just havin' a bad dream. The thing is, it never was a dream at all."

"Aw, come on, Riley," Bobby said. "You'd have nightmares when we slept at our uncles' houses. Uncle Travis, Uncle Steve or Uncle Kirby would come into your room to comfort you, remember?"

Sundown held the younger boy to keep him from crying. He said lowly, "You wanna know somethin', Riley? I'd have those dreams of sharin' adventures wit a special lil' boy, too. That's why I always dreamed of havin' a son, so I could make some of those dreams come true. Oh, my family always told me to volunteer wit the Big Brother program, but it ain't the same. Those things only let ya have the kid fer only an hour or two. Maybe three or four, at the most." He started thinking at Jeremy Boston again, but decided not to mention him to the boys. "But now that I'm gittin' to know you two, I'm ready, willin' an' able to make some of those dreams come true. An' if yer both willin' to let me in, to gimme a chance, and let relationships form an' blossom, I promise I'll be just as strong an' kindly as yer father was – _before_ he became a criminal."

Riley wrapped himself around Sundown's middle to hug him tight. "Thank you, Sundown," he said. "I promise I'll very good just fer you."

Bobby seemed a little more reluctant, and held him a little more loosely. "I promise, too," he said.

Lorna had just put away the last of the dinner dishes, and went back to the living room to see her sons starting to love her new boyfriend. She sniffled and said, "I wish I had my camera on me right now." She took a few deep breaths and looked at Bobby.

"Have you finished all your homework?" she asked.

"I have," Bobby answered.

"Wonderful." She went to the closet in the hallway and retrieved Scrabble. They spent the next two hours playing the game before sending the boys to bed. As they were getting ready, Lorna privately asked them, "So, what do you boys think of Sundown? Tell me honestly."

"I really do like him," Riley said. "He's so warm an' open an' loving. Especially when we were talking about Daddy."

"I thought he was going to condemn him for murder," Bobby said, "and say that Dad got what was coming to him." His words and tone sounded bitter and resentful.

She could tell what her older son's attitude meant. She said, "Bobby, you were awful quiet when we were playing Scrabble. Look, I know you miss your father so much, and you're probably uncomfortable with Sundown. But think of it this way, he wants you to understand that what Dad did was punishable to the law, without really losing that special place we all have in our souls for him." _An' I certainly hope that last part is true,_ she thought. She said good night to hem, turned out the light, and went back to Sundown.

He was licking his lips when he saw her, thinking of her meal. "Mmm, that was a terrific dinner you made this evenin'," he said.

"Thanks," she replied. "When you've stayed at home your whole marriage, cooking and cleaning become your main specialties." She turned on her radio, an easy-listening station playing a saxophone solo during a slow song, the volume set at a moderate level to listen while the boys slept.

"I know this isn't the country music you like," she said, "but I just want to relax tonight."

They sat back on the sofa, close to one another. Sundown smiled and touched Lorna's face. He said, "Let's talk 'bout this job thing. After Stuart went away, what kinda job didja hold down?"

"I worked full-time as a waitress at a family restaurant in Dallas called Hickory Farms," Lorna said. "Fairly new place, I gather it had been around fer five years. Between the tips, an' the fact that I taught my boys that necessity was more important than want, we managed to get by. Even in Dallas, most people wouldn't hire me. Who'd want a mere housewife with no career experience?"

"Are you sure you wanna do that again?" Sundown asked her. "You really want to go through all that commutin' back an' forth all over Empire City, workin' two jobs to pay yer bills 'til ya wear out? I can't have ya do that." He paused to look in her eyes. "With yer cookin', my darlin', I reckon you could start yer own caterin' business right here from home."

"You really think I should?" she asked. "Is that really a good idea? I mean, my family never really encouraged that. Will I need to get a loan? I may have to look into a laptop computer, in case I have to visit clients. And who'll do my webpage? I hadn't updated on family webpage since Stuart was gone."

"Shouldn't be that difficult," Sundown assured her. "Maybe if ya called the business bureau an' inquired 'bout it, they should help ya git started."

Lorna smiled, now encouraged. "You're right. Thank you so much. I'll have to call them first thing in the morning." She felt so happy and confident.

She dimmed the living room lights, and they spent the rest of the night making love to the rhythm of the stereo, almost never saying anything. At eleven-thirty, Sundown quietly announced, "Listen, I hate to see this end, sweetheart, but I have to go now."

"I understand," Lorna replied. "You have work, and what woman stays overnight with a man on the first date?"

She walked him to the door, and after a long kiss goodnight and silent farewell, Sundown was gone, and Lorna stared at the door for almost half an hour, wondering when they will meet again.

* * *

When they arrived at Family Choices, Marilyn told her children, "Now, we're here to meet the man I've been telling you about, so I expect you to be on your best behavior for him, okay?" She almost never reminded her children to behave at a restaurant, but meeting someone new there was a special occasion, and she didn't want any potential rudeness to scare that person away. 

There was hardly a line, only three people standing in wait for tables, so Marilyn took Justin and Bridget right up. When it was their turn to be seated, Marilyn said, "I'm meeting a man named Hugh Forward, codename Bullseye." The attendant nodded and led them to a booth occupied by a familiar-looking man with reddish-brown hair. Marilyn whistled at his black dress-shirt and khaki slacks.

"Bullseye?" she guessed. "You sure know how to dress for a date." She sat next to him, and introduced Justin and Bridget as they sat on the other side

"Hi," the children said together. Justin was staring at Bullseye with profound interest.

"Uh, nice to meet you," Bullseye replied, suddenly wondering why a woman would bring her children with her on the first date. He was guessing this was dinner only. They had school and work in the morning, he logically believed.

A waitress came to their table and asked what they like to drink. Both Bullseye and Marilyn ordered coffee, and she ordered a glass of regular milk for Bridget. But Justin was staring at Bullseye so lovingly, he never paid attention. Bridget had to tap his shoulder and ask, "What would you like to drink?"

Justin sat up immediately and said, "I'd like a Diet Pepsi, if I may, Mom." Marilyn nodded in acceptance.

"Did you look at that, Justin's interested in you already," Marilyn noted. "Must be the 'helicopter pilot' factoid. So, Bullseye – if that's what you prefer to be called."

"It is," Bullseye replied.

"Right," she said. "Um, why don't you tell me a little more about yourself, maybe where you originated before you joined up with C.O.P.S.?"

He smiled and began, "Well, I was recruited here all the way from Miami."

"Miami?" she repeated. "Oh, that's such a beautiful city. My husband, Rich, and I, we went to Miami on our honeymoon, and again for our fifteenth wedding anniversary."

She looked at her children and said, "Why don't you two get some plates from the buffet section there, and get something to eat? Justin, make sure Bridget gets some vegetables." The children nodded and left the table.

Marilyn looked at Bullseye again and said, "So, you originated from Miami, where you spent your whole career, I'm assuming." He nodded. "Were you a famous helicopter pilot there?"

"And a police officer," Bullseye said. "I've actually been flying helicopters since I was fourteen, my father being a pilot himself. I've studied to be a pilot in college; having obtained my license at twenty-one, but it was my mother who encouraged me to go to the police academy afterwards. I've had the Air Raid helicopter since I first joined the Miami Police Department, and my flying skills have helped in more than my share of arrests. I could detect them all – drug dealers, transporters of illegal guns, and I'd even spotted a few illegal aliens from Cuba and eastern Mexico, among a long list. As well, and I hate to brag, but I have amazing flying skills. I'm actually more comfortable in the sky than I am on the ground."

Marilyn smiled a huge smile, and Bullseye was immediately turned on. "I can tell you're impressed. So was the C.O.P.S. team."

"So glad that your talents got recognized," Marilyn said. "Then again, I'm not really that surprised." The children came back with potatoes and chicken and assorted vegetables, so the adults went up for their meal.

In line, she looked down at his hands. "So, what about your personal life?" she asked. "I can tell you're not married; you're minus a wedding band."

"Nope, never have been," Bullseye said. "I did have a couple of girlfriends back in Miami though. I guess they felt a little uneasy about being with a pilot; the long hours flying, not getting to see your date much, they think you're more in love with your plane." He scooped some hamburger and macaroni casserole, then stopped. "I never could understand it, though. I could understand the long hours and little devotion bits if you were an airline pilot, flying to all those faraway places. But we helicopter pilots go home for longer periods after our shifts end. Sure, we may be just as tired, but we can always make time for our families and friends after work."

"You're a very charming, nice-looking person," Marilyn replied. "I think you deserve a relationship that goes beyond just a booty call."

"And especially since I really want children," Bullseye agreed. "When I go to sleep after my shifts, I would dream that I was a father of a wonderful, obedient young boy, and he and I would fly the Air Raid all over the city, and I'd show him the sights, and we'd bust up a few spotted crimes together. When I was in Miami, and my nephews would visit me, they'd ask me if they could go flying with me. They'd love the view. I could make a boy live for the sky just as I do."

"Well, you'll have no problem with Justin," Marilyn said as she scooped some mashed potatoes and added gravy. "He's been interested in helicopters and airplanes since he was a little boy. He'd make helicopter noises as he'd speed-walk with a toy helicopter all around the house. It'd annoy me when he'd make the noises, but I managed to see past it and watch him have fun with them. And it was always warm where we lived in Arizona, so he'd always be outside running around the front and back yards with his airplanes. He'd often pretend they were fighter planes in combat, even toy passenger jets."

"So I take it he's doesn't want to be an airline pilot," Bullseye guessed. "He yearns for a little action, doesn't he?"

"He takes after his father," Marilyn guessed. Not only is he full of energy, but also adrenaline and testosterone. He's dreamed of perhaps joining the Army and flying in one of those fighter jets."

Just as she went over to the other side of the buffet, she gasped. She noticed Turbo Tu-Tone in line, just starting to fill his plate. Turbo caught Marilyn's familiar face, from the day she and Bullseye met, grinned at her and waved. She nearly dropped her plate into the battered shrimp.

"Oh, crap!" she whispered aloud. "Bullseye, that's the truck thief from last Saturday. He must've been driving towards a theft, and noticed my car from the distance. Otherwise I would wonder what the hell he's doing here!"

She looked down for the rest of her buffet round, staring at the food, avoiding any eye contact with Turbo. When she got to the end, she walked quickly back to her table. Her children looked worried at her.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Justin asked. "Did you just see a ghost?"

"Worse," she answered. "Remember the driver of that speeding truck we drove after last weekend? He's decided to come here just to flirt with me, I know it!" She was relieved when Bullseye came back with his full plate. "What I want to know is how the hell did he get out of jail?"

"Marilyn, you don't know what these crooks are capable of when it comes to escaping," Bullseye answered as he rolled his eyes.

The new couple was eating their food rather timidly. She tried not to notice Turbo grinning and winking at her as he walked past. He looked back, and noticed a table and two empty chairs just across from them, so he set his plate down, and retrieved his water and coffee from his old table.

She didn't notice him flirting with her, but did turn to him when he said, "Hey, sweetheart."

Marilyn groaned and held her stomach, feeling as if she was going to have cramps.

"Um, didn't you go to jail for that truck you stole?" she asked lowly. "Where's your little blond partner? And what are you doing here, other than to pick me up?"

"Relax," Turbo said, "Can't a guy have dinner by himself without others bein' so suspicious?"

"Oh, come off it! I'll bet you came here looking for this table, and sat yourself at the closest available one." She looked at the booths down the closest aisle to them. "I'll bet you previously came from one of those available booths."

Turbo decided to confess then. "That's 'cuz I mostly came to see you, as well as have dinner. Suddenly, I was hungry." He bit from a fried chicken breast.

"Well, in you case you haven't noticed, I'm on a date." She touched Bullseye, then pointed at her children. "These ones are only here to meet him."

Turbo pulled out his cell phone and activated it to camera mode, getting both Marilyn and Bullseye in the frame. The phone flashed and beeped, and Turbo grinned.

"Oh, God, don't tell me he got our picture!" Marilyn whined, then turned away from the crook. "Okay, if they come around with those little survey tickets, asking us how to improve service, I'm telling them to install curtains in the booths that only waitresses can peek through!"

She spent the rest of the meal looking at either her children or her date. Bullseye smiled a little and said, "Don't worry about him, Marilyn. Why don't you tell me a little more about yourself? Your career, your husband. I know you're working alongside Valerie at Lancer and Sussex." He looked at Bridget, who smiled back at him. "You've told me about Justin, what about Bridget?"

"Which do you want to hear first?" she asked.

Marilyn started talking about her advertising career. She told Bullseye about her greatest accomplishments, the projects she involved her children in. The same things she revealed when she was first interviewed at Lancer and Sussex. "You can guess I'm that devoted to my children," she said.

"What got you promoted to project manager in the first place?" Bullseye asked. "That sounds like a major accomplishment. You must feel pretty powerful."

"Oh, the branch I worked at in Vidmark had about forty employees, and around five of them were managers," Marilyn said. She ate a piece of veal cutlet. "One of them was a woman named Jane DeMorgan, she worked at the company for fifteen years, and she was manager for eight of them. I worked with her most often, and she was so easy to get along with. She was always open to new ideas, and brainstorming with her was a pleasure. She wrote in her reports how attentive, hard-working and energetic I was. When Jane left the company, I was chosen to succeed her. That was two years before I came here. Living proof that hard work does pay off."

Bullseye looked so proud at her. "That's wonderful. And I'll bet all that hard work, and a perfect-or-nearly-so track record was what attracted the main branch here."

He looked at Bridget again. "What about Bridget? You said some things about the Miami Misty doll promotion you put her in. Is that all she likes to do, is play with dolls? He was already wondering what kind of "girl games" he could play with her.

"She's very girlish like that," Marilyn answered. "Dolls, doll houses, fold-out pool sets and waterfall getaways they advertise on TV, even those little pink Corvettes she makes the dolls drive around in. Mind you, those are one of the few dolls I let her have. The way I see it, Miami Misty has the looks of Barbie, but the innocence of the Polly Pocket dolls from years ago. Her bedroom is all dolled out in pink and purple, yellow and light blue and light green. But I had to make sure they didn't look like pastels; I read that babies exposed to pastel colors turn out to be shy and quiet. I wanted Bridget to be girlish, but also confident and outgoing."

She looked at her daughter finishing up her peas and corn. "And right now, she can't really think of anything to say."

"She looks so sweet," Bullseye complimented, then looked somber. "And what about Rich? Your husband? What was he like as a husband and father? And what happened to him?"

Suddenly, Justin and Bridget stopped eating and looked very sad. Bridget only sighed, but Justin looked as if tears were beginning to emerge, the painful memories of the days and nights that followed, when his father was all he could think about, how he cried alone in his bedroom nightly.

"Uh, Bullseye, can we please not discuss that in front of the kids?" Marilyn requested, her voice sounding wobbly. She reached across the table to try and comfort her son. "Maybe if you can come over for coffee one of these evenings, we can talk." She lightly encouraged her children to finish dinner, the way she stabbed some of Bridget's French fries and gave her the fork.

Across the aisle, Turbo looked a little sympathetic. "So, Marilyn, this means yer widowed?" he asked. He went over to rub her shoulder for comfort, but she immediately pushed him away.

"Get lost, you hairbag!" she ordered. "Why don't you find a table on the _other_ end of the dining hall?" Turbo went back to his new table and stayed there. Bullseye was glaring at him fiercely.

"You should be lucky I'm off-duty and don't have a phone on me!" he told him. "I could turn you over to headquarters for harassment!"

Turbo was disgusted. "Whatever, copper," he muttered as he took his food and left the table. But before he went back to his original table, he gave Marilyn a grin and a wink.

She was so bothered; she ate some of her food faster. Bullseye rubbed her shoulder and said, "Don't worry about him, Marilyn. You really ought to slow down when you're eating."

Marilyn looked a bit peeved. Part of her wanted to lecture Bullseye for telling her about table etiquette. But she looked at her kids, who were just staring at her. "Oh, you're right," she said. "I shouldn't act like such a child, should I? Especially eating like a pig, what kind of example does that set for my kids?"

"It's okay," he reassured her. "Let's talk about something else." He looked at Justin for a few moments. "You know, I've always dreamed that whenever I had a son, he'd follow into my footsteps and become a police officer himself." He was focused on the boy now. "And I can see that for you, Justin. I think you'd make a really great helicopter pilot for C.O.P.S. And I'm confident that this is what your father would want out of you."

"You really think so?" Justin asked. "I'd thought about becoming a police officer and helicopter pilot up until Dad got killed. "I'm afraid the same thing would happen to me." His voice got a little wispier. "Isn't there any danger in flying a helicopter for the police? Don't you worry about your helicopter getting shot down and crashing?"

Bullseye reached across the table and took Justin's hand. "Justin, trust me," he said, "you won't get killed in the line of duty if you're careful, cautious, and don't rush into anything dangerous without calling for help. That's what we do best at the C.O.P.S. organization. We always count on each other to get the job done as a team, so we can survive through it."

He could see the boy looking convinced, but still timid about becoming an officer. So Bullseye continued, "I want to inspire you, Justin. If you can let me into your and your mother's lives, and if you all can let me be part of your family, then maybe I can be father, mentor and friend to you. I know that's what all sons want from their fathers."

Justin smiled and nodded, and Bullseye smiled back at this acceptance. The kids finished their meals then, but Justin and Marilyn went for a smaller second plate. When they were done, Bullseye treated both children to ice cream for dessert.

Marilyn looked at her date with such admiration. She knew Bullseye could make Justin happy, but wondered about Bridget. She wondered what things he'd do with her, and what he'd teach her. _What would Bullseye have in common with a seven-year-old girl?_ she wondered. _Perhaps he could tell her stories about flying to faraway places._

_Oh, well. We'll cross that street when we get to it.

* * *

_

Both Mace and Highway had Friday night off, so when the SWAT member told the motorcycle officer of his plans with Cheryl, Highway immediately called Janice to ask if she was free that night. 

Janice was enthralled. "Highway, I was hoping when you'd finally ask me out," she said. "Mind you, I was so touched by your sexy talk, but when were we actually going out?"

"I didn't know when my next time off would be that would allow it," he grinned. "I wouldn't want anything to interfere with you going to work in the morning."

She laughed back. "Good to know you're willing to look out for my career needs. I like that in a man."

The date Friday night started off well. There was no dinner, but they did start out with three games of bowling, as Mace had originally planned. Mace and Cheryl were bowling the best, trading off first and second place every game. They'd had an amazing number of strikes in total, and gave each other a lot of kisses in the process. Highway bowled the worst, not getting a single strike, but mostly gutter balls and splits he couldn't make into spares.

It was now the beginning of the tenth frame in the third game. Janice felt very sorry for her date, and rubbed his shoulders. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm not doing all that great, either. Notice I only had two strikes ever tonight, and this third game is just wrapping up."

"You haven't bowled in a long time, have you?" Highway asked.

"Not since my thirtieth birthday," she answered.

They watched Cheryl bowl three strikes in a row, then go up to Mace to kiss for thirty seconds.

"Baby, you weren't kiddin' when ya said ya liked bowlin'," he said.

"Back in Pittsburgh, I had a 265 average in my Friday night league, and a 274 average in my Saturday night league," she bragged.

As he went to take his turn, she French-kissed him three times for good luck.

"Ugh, Cheryl!" Janice sneered. "Do you realize this is a public bowling alley? Other people might be watching!"

"I don't see any kids here," Cheryl laughed back. Seconds later, they heard Mace bowl yet another strike. But on the second ball, he knocked down only eight pins. Cheryl went up and rubbed his shoulders for more good luck. It seemed to work – he bowled a fast spare.

"Don't worry if you lose, sweetie," she advised. "It's always good date manners to let the lady win sometimes."

At Janice's turn, she bowled a 9-1 spare on the first two balls, but knocked down only seven pins on the third. Highway was less fortunate, bowling a 6-4 split and knocking down only two pins on the second ball. Janice rubbed the back of his neck with her arm.

"Didn't Mace tell you we were going clubbing afterwards?" she asked. "I think this'll make you feel better."

It was a little after ten-thirty when they arrived at a nightclub called China Grove. There was a medium-sized line, about forty people, mostly young adults in their twenties. As they stood in line and moved towards the doors, they saw more college students and young partygoers joining them. Janice looked uneasy as she looked around.

"Guys," she said, "I don't know about you, but I feel out of place here."

But nobody paid much attention to her. Cheryl and Mace were already feeling driven but the rock and techno music they could hear playing.

"This is rocking!" Cheryl exclaimed. "I haven't heard any of these songs since I was in college." She rubbed her date's shoulder. "You're really into this rock music, aren't you, Mace?"

"Both old an' new," he grinned. "Nothin's changed since my high school an' college days."

She started bopping around in the line. "Ooh, this is going to be fun."

"You listen to this music, too?" Janice asked. "And you are how old?"

"Forty-two," Cheryl answered confidently. "You can guess I'm such a teenybopper when it comes to music. Actually, I listen to everything – rock, pop, techno, country. I'll listen to anything except classical. I'll get into fights with my daughter because I sometimes steal her CD's to listen to."

Highway wrapped his arms around Janice's waist. "Don't worry, honey, you'll love it," he said. "I'll buy you some drinks to loosen you up, okay?"

She smiled back. "You're so sweet, Highway. Thanks."

They managed to get in and checked by quarter to eleven. Mace received a band indicating he'd be the designated driver. As they went to the tables and bar, Janice was already tensing up by the loud "trance" music, the loud pumping beats. She waited until it was over, then heard yet another techno song.

"Highway!" she yelled over the noise. "You think they could play a nice slow song or something?"

But Mace could hear her. "Are ya kiddin' me, Janice?" he asked. "Places like this one don't play slow love songs, not even if ya requested one!"

Janice looked as uneasy as ever, but Highway tried to comfort her. "Look, I understand this isn't what you pictured your first date, but can you try to have a good time? How about I get you something to drink now? Then later, when the dance floor's filling up, we can do some dancing."

"I'll try, Highway," she promised. "Maybe if you can get me a glass of vodka."

"Your wish is my command," Highway said, then went to the bar.

She was staring at her date as he walked, but felt Cheryl touching her arm after a few seconds. "So, Janice," she said, "why don't you tell us some things about yourself? What brings you here to Empire City?"

She knew that Highway had heard it before, so she told her, "Well, I used to live in California like Highway did, but then I got divorced over serious differences about what was best for my youngest son. I have three boys, and the older two still live in Los Angeles with their father. Regan, my youngest, is the only one I have custody of." Just then, Highway joined them with the drinks.

Mace and Cheryl looked insulted. "Gee, thanks fer fergettin' about us, Highway," he criticized.

"Can't you get drinks for your date yourself?" Highway replied.

Janice rolled here eyes. "Anyway," she said, "I divorced Cliff because I was tired of him and his goddamn family always putting pressure on him to be something he could never be, just for the sake of family harmony."

"I'm sorry, putting pressure on your son to be something he couldn't be?" Cheryl wondered. "Family harmony?"

Janice began telling about Regan's cerebral palsy, and his physical and mental limitations, and how Cliff and his family would push him to be a police officer regardless. "They said his disability shouldn't keep him from following tradition. They argue that he _is_ mobile, and not in an electric wheelchair, and can speak and hear just fine, so why not?"

"You've gotta be kiddin' me," Mace winced. "Yer Regan could never be a real cop. Maybe if he studied hard enough, he could git at least a seventy on the written exam. But he'd never pass the physical."

"That's exactly what the chief of police said when he testified in my divorce," Janice said. "But Cliff and his family would never listen. God, but I can remember Regan crying and moaning as he nearly passed out on the obstacle course and the exercise equipment. They say if you don't follow the Dalhousie family tradition, you're nothing. First of all, my family has law enforcement as tradition, too. All my brothers and one sister are officers, many of them living here in Empire City. Yet, even _they _can understand that Regan can never be an officer. Secondly, _his_ sisters are married to cops, and some of his nieces even talked about marrying cops, too. Would it kill them if Regan just happened to marry a female cop? Seriously, I'm just so glad to be rid of Cliff. I would never have to talk to him again if it weren't for the child support and arranging for Roderick and Rydell to see me!"

"So what does Regan want to be?" Cheryl asked.

"He wants to be a writer for children, and maybe for juvenile and high school readers," Janice said. "I don't know, I guess we'll wait until he gets through high school himself. I'm a literary agent, working as a new partner in my sister's agency, so I guess it's partially my influence. Of course, Pam helps too. Thankfully, English has always been his favorite subject. And I should maybe give you some of his stories to read. He's so awesome."

"I'd like to meet him and read some of his work," Highway said. "Maybe even show it to my young nieces and nephews. I'm sure we'll see some good things coming from – oh, no!"

Suddenly, the couples saw three very suspicious-looking characters, two men and a woman, sitting down two tables away. Cheryl thought the woman looked somewhat familiar, but not the men, whom looked very familiar to the other three. The woman had short blond hairdo and a face that resembled the wickedest of witches, wearing a poppy red dress and triangular earrings that were the color of stone. One man was wearing a darker red suit, a cross between a cherry and a brick, and a matching fedora hat. His face was just as sinister-looking as the woman he came with. The other man was grossly obese with black slick-back hair, and a white suit with police badges for buttons. Cheryl was staring at the woman, not noticing the men were trying to flirt with her and Janice.

Cheryl leaned closer to Mace and pointed at the ugly woman. "Mace, is that the Ms. Demeanor that you and Danielle were talking about when we met at the Dairy Queen?"

"Yes, it is!" Mace answered.

She pointed at the two men. "And who are those ugly bastards?"

Janice heard this, and before the C.O.P.S. could answer, she said, "May I answer this one?" She brought Cheryl close to her and pointed them out. "The one in the imitation detective gear is Buttons McBoomBoom, and the fat ass is called Big Boss. They're real ruthless motherfuckers, and very dangerous. Especially Big Boss; he's fucking lethal! You do not want to be in his headquarters, in his suite, and you don't even want to be sitting at the same _table_ as him."

"And how do you know this?" Cheryl asked.

"I told you, many of my cop brothers, and cop sister, Becky, they work here in Empire City. Every time they call me, they never fail to bring up some of the shenanigans that these freaks come up with. As well, they also tell me whenever some of these C.O.P.S. bust them!"

Cheryl noticed Buttons McBoomBoom and Big Boss were making eye contact with her and Janice. She looked away and flirted with Mace for thirty seconds. When she looked back at the crooks, she saw all three of them whispering.

"Uh, Janice, do you know those two freaky men are checking us out?" she asked.

Janice was disgusted, and took a bigger drink of vodka. "Yes!" She turned away from the crooks and immediately thought of something else. "So, Cheryl, maybe you told Mace, but you haven't told Highway and me – what brings _you_ to Empire City?"

Cheryl had conflicting emotions, but managed to tell her, "A year ago last month, my husband, a fellow policeman, was gunned down in a hostage situation that turned horribly wrong. Since then, my sons had been bullied by this boy who taunts children who have no fathers in their lives. What made it worse was this bully had been spoiled by both parents. He called Jacob and Brett 'bastards' almost daily on the playground, and they, not the bully, had been blamed by school authorities for fights _that one brat started!_ After the last incident where I took charge, the principal decidedly expelled both my sons, and that was the last straw. So I decided to take them away from all that, and here we are."

"How are they now?" Janice asked.

"Danielle, my daughter, she was a little hesitant to come here at first, but she's adjusting pretty well," Cheryl said. "She has a few friends and is doing pretty good in school. My boys have been behaving like angels and saints from day one of our living here. I have yet to have their school call me because they've been engaging in fights. They are enjoying themselves in their new school. English and Math are so easy for Jacob, while Brett is very into Science, art and computers. And I can't begin to tell you about all the sports they want me to sign them up for."

When Janice finished her drink, Highway offered, "You want me to get another glass of vodka, sweetheart?"

"I'd love one," she replied.

"And I'll have a rum and Coke please," Cheryl added to Mace.

The C.O.P.S. left for the bar, then suddenly, the women noticed Buttons and Big Boss coming toward their table. They gasped, their breath held in when Big Boss sat next to Janice, Buttons next to Cheryl.

"Well, hello there, sweet cheeks," Big Boss grinned. "What fancy meetin' you here, see?"

Janice groaned silently. Cheryl tried to stay cool, with Buttons flirting with her.

"What're yer names, ladies?" he asked. "We definitely wanna git to know ya."

His love interest immediately told him, "My name is Cheryl Raleigh, and this is Janice Dalhousie. And in case you haven't noticed, we came here with other men, and you're sitting in their seats. So if you don't mind, would you please go back to your original table?" She looked as Ms. Demeanor sitting all by herself. "I'm sure your date there is looking a little alone."

"Other men, eh?" Buttons repeated. He looked over at Highway and Mace waiting at the bar. "Ya mean those two coppers? Nah, they ain't got nothin' on us."

"Well, I came to this great city with plans to marry a 'copper,' so to speak," Cheryl said. She pointed at Janice. "And you wouldn't really be interested in _her_, Big Boss. She comes from a family of coppers. And you two are so ugly, you'd probably be rejected from the police force at first sight if you tried to apply."

"Cheryl!" Janice cried.

Cheryl looked over at Highway and Mace and noticed their shocked reactions. Mace walked quickly back to their table and set the drink tray down hard without smashing the glasses or spilling.

"Listen, scumbags!" he bellowed. "Ya tryin' to hit on our women here?"

"_Trying_ being the operative word," she replied. "All these two can do is stare at us like idiots and think of cheesy lines to say. They obviously can't see that we've already been snatched up."

Mace grabbed Buttons by his collar and said through gritted teeth, "Listen, punk! If you even do so much as glance at Cheryl Raleigh here, I'm gonna call in my professional team to lock ya up on sight. _Got it?!_"

"Same goes for Janice here, Big Boss!" Highway added.

Buttons freed himself from Mace's grip and retorted, "All right, all right, I'm goin!" He went to his criminal employer. "C'mon, Big Boss. We know where we ain't wanted." As he left, he turned to wink at Cheryl.

Mace sat down and tried to comfort her but she said, "I'm all right, Mace. Thanks for your concern."

"You pulled that off real well," Janice said to her. "I'm impressed. I was one comment away from telling Big Boss to go fuck himself!"

Meanwhile, Ms. Demeanor was waiting for the other crooks to come back. When they did, Buttons immediately told her, "The dame Mace's with, her name is Cheryl Raleigh."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ms. Demeanor replied. Just then, the dance floor began to open up to the patrons, and the deejay announced the first song to dance to, a pop-rock hit by a group called Mojave Street, _Where You're Running_.

Big Boss was immediately annoyed by the noisy guitar and drum beats, the lead singer's voice. "God, why in hell didja bring me here?" he griped. "You know I can't stand this kinda shit music!"

The crooks all pretended to mind themselves, but once in a while, Ms. Demeanor would glance over at Highway, Janice, Mace and Cheryl, all drinking and laughing at their table. She waited through two more songs, then at the opening of Nelly Furtado's _Promiscuous_, noticed both couples heading out to dance.

Ms. Demeanor went out to the edge of the dance floor, and kept watch over Mace and Cheryl. They were dancing a little sexy to her, the way Cheryl was swinging her hips around, feeling Mace's ribs, waist and hips up and down. The dancing got dirtier as the song went on, the way Mace put his arm's below Cheryl's chest and bumped and grinded with her.

Ms. Demeanor looked over at Highway and Janice. Janice looked a little loosened up, as by the end of the song, she was unbuttoning Highway's shirt just past his chest and put the collar back to show some of him off.

"Damn, that vodka must've done the trick somehow," he grinned.

The next song that played was George Michael's _Outside_. Ms. Demeanor went out to the floor and casually walked past the two couples. She saw a group of friends in their late twenties dancing near Mace and Cheryl, and persuaded them to let her dance with them. She danced in the spot where she could face the couple, and kept her eyes on them. By the time they heard they "music solo" part, the patron dancing next to her said, "Ma'am, is something up? You've been staring at that couple the whole song."

She pointed at Mace and replied, "See that big guy over there? He used to date a colleague that used to work with me. And when she finds out what he's been doing with that woman, she's going to be pissed off!"

She saw the couples all get together for the next song, Lenny Kravitz's _Black Velveteen._ Highway and Mace held their dates' hands through the whole song, and they looked as if they were doing a rock version of square-dancing, with a little chest bumping thrown in at the end. Ms. Demeanor looked shocked.

_Oh, Mace, wait until Nightshade hears about your little fling with your new bitch, Cheryl Raleigh!_ she thought. _She's going to go berserk._

At the start of a brand new song, something that sounded like techno-pop, the deejay suddenly called out, "How about something a little more current this time? Here's this really sexy spring hit of this year from Dancing Alana, here's _I'm in Love With Authority_."

Soon, Ms. Demeanor saw Buttons take Big Boss onto the dance floor. She saw them scanning for the couples. She snuck her way past them to join the crooks.

"I was just next to them," she said, pointing in the direction she came. "They're right over there."

Buttons and Big Boss waited, then in the middle of the song, they saw Mace and Highway leave for the washrooms. When they had disappeared, Ms. Demeanor led them to Cheryl and Janice.

The two women stopped dancing and just stared at their new "partners." Cheryl was studying them both, and trying not to laugh as they danced. Big Boss took Janice's arm and started swinging her around wildly, almost to the point where she started screaming in fear. Buttons tried to take Cheryl's hand, but snatched it away, refusing.

"Please allow me to explain some things to you," she said. "First, the song's called _I'm in Love With Authority_, not _I'm in Love With a Bad-Assed Criminal._ Secondly, your dancing sucks, both of you. You especially, Big Boss; you should not be throwing your body around at your size. You look ridiculous! Our dates should be finishing up in the washrooms, so I suggest you vamoose by the time they come back. In fact–" She took Janice and went to a big bar-like table with stools, that overlooked the dance floor.

"Let's wait for Mace and Highway here," Cheryl said.

Meanwhile, back at her table, Ms. Demeanor was sipping a margarita as Big Boss and Buttons returned. Buttons complained to her, "Damn, that Cheryl sure has some sarcastic wit to people she don't care for. Wonder where she gits it?"

Soon enough, they saw Mace and Highway come back from the washrooms, then pick up the women from the bar table, back out to the floor. She excused herself and went to where Cheryl and Janice had been sitting. Sure enough there were Mace and Highway, dancing with the women in the middle of a full dance floor. It was still like that as they went into another retro song, DJ Champion's _No Heaven_. She kept watch over the two couples, Mace and Cheryl, Highway and Janice, as they were dancing dirtier than before, and the women were so loose, they began to sexually improvise.

"That is so degrading!" Ms. Demeanor whispered to herself. About three-quarters of the way through, she'd seen enough. She went to the washrooms, where there was less noise from the music. She retrieved her small cell phone from her small handbag and dialed the number of a former cat burglar.


	4. Tell Me Everything

Chapter 4

That evening, former cat burglar Rafaella "Nightshade" Diamond was sitting around her apartment, thinking. She was thrilled when she heard that her distant love, Mace, was no longer with Valerie Boston, and had been scheming to get him back. Recently, she'd been writing to schools, offering to speak to junior high and high school students about why one should avoid getting into the criminal life. But the schools would reject her; one high school even wrote her back two days ago, stating, "Our school's reputation depends on educating students to make right decisions, not brainwashing them to make wrong decisions. If an ex-jewel thief were to speak at assemblies, no one would take him/her seriously. We worry that you just may glamorize the career of crime, not discourage it."

She read over that letter furiously. "Those straight-laced, preachy assholes!" she lamented. "Don't they understand that I gave all that up for Sgt. Mace, and now I'm trying to launch a new career?" She crumpled up the letter and threw it in her garbage can. She immediately began to think about her younger sister, Cathleen. "My God, I'm always telling my sister not to go down the same path I did!" She turned on her television and switched channels through late night talk shows, infomercials and late movies.

Suddenly, her phone rang. As she went to it she muttered to herself, "It can't be Mace or Cathleen. It's a little late for him to get together with me, and she should be sleeping by now." She answered and saw Ms. Demeanor on the screen.

"Ms. Demeanor!" she answered, disgusted. "Why do you guys keep contacting me? I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone! Remember when I went to that suite and screamed at you all after Mace dumped me?"

She saw Ms. Demeanor walking somewhere as she saw the background moving. "Nightshade!" she said. "Nightshade, I'm with Buttons and Big Boss, and you'll never believe what I've been seeing."

Nightshade could hear pounding music beats now, and screaming and loud talking in the background. She asked, "Ms. Demeanor, where are you? What's all that noise, and music?"

"I'm at this club, China Grove," Ms. Demeanor said over the noise. "It's sure packed and hopping here tonight! And Mace is here with one of his colleagues!"

Nightshade looked confused. "All right, what would Mace be doing at a place like that? I thought he hated trance techno music and bubblegum pop remixes."

She saw Ms. Demeanor was out on the dance floor now. "I have a little surprise here you're not going to like – that is, if you're determined to get Mace back!" she called over the noise. "This may just hinder all your future attempts!"

She waited as the henchwoman searched the crowd, then seconds later, turned her cell phone away from her. Nightshade was shocked to see Mace dancing with yet another woman unknown to her.

"Surprise, Nightshade!" Ms. Demeanor called. "Your tough guy lover has just landed himself someone new. Her name is Cheryl Raleigh."

"Who?! Cheryl Raleigh?" Nightshade blasted. "That no-good, two-timing son of a whore! I'm trying to win him back, and he goes and pulls this goddamn stunt? Get closer to them, Ms. Demeanor!"

Ms. Demeanor walked up until she showed Mace on Nightshade's telephone screen.

"Mace!" Nightshade shouted. "Mace, it's Nightshade! Listen, you bastard, I know you can hear me! I've been bending over backwards to get you back since you split up with that Barbie doll wannabe tramp, Valerie, and not only will you not answer my calls and put a fucking restraining order on me, but you're also out dancing with yet _another_ bitch?!"

Ms. Demeanor had given Mace her phone as Nightshade kept ranting. "I've been dedicating my days to turning my life around and landing something legitimate because I thought our love was something worth fighting for! And this is how you contribute to the war effort?! You thoughtless piece of human garbage! You better get your act together and make some time to come see me soon because–"

Mace was unconvinced and unmoved. Wordlessly, he pressed the "End Call" button on Ms. Demeanor's cell phone and gave it back to her.

"There!" he declared. "Now you get outta here an' leave Cheryl an' me, and Highway an' Janice alone! We're on a date here, an' yer all just harassin' us!" Ms. Demeanor walked away unimpressed.

Meanwhile, Nightshade was listening to a buzz and a recorded message. She slammed on the call waiting button and screamed, "Mace! Mace, where the hell are you?! Mace, hello, answer me!!" She slammed down her phone and screamed. Seconds later, she heard a loud knock.

She looked through the peephole and opened her door to see a woman around the same age as her, in a pink bathrobe. A neighbor living in the apartment close to her. She looked peeved at her.

"What's going on?" she asked. "It's getting close to midnight, we're trying to sleep, and you're screaming in here."

Nightshade looked embarrassed. "Sorry!" she said lowly. "I just got a call informing me that my ex-beau found another girlfriend and is gallivanting downtown."

"You mean Sgt. Mace?" the neighbor asked. "The guy some of us heard you arguing with last month?" She patted her shoulder to comfort her. "Listen, I don't think the guy is into you anymore. It's not worth it wasting all this energy. Maybe you should get some sleep, too, and find someone else in the morning."

Nightshade just stared at her looking numb. How would she ever get past her romance with – and heartbreak from – Sgt. Colt "Mace" Howards?

* * *

Late the next morning, Valerie was on her laptop, looking at some video online for a commercial she was working on when the doorbell rang. She answered to see Marilyn with her children in tow. 

"Marilyn," she said. "What a surprise to see you. You really should've called first, I would've tidied up the house for you." She let them into the house, and noticed Marilyn looked like a mess. She also noted how quickly and fiercely she was introducing the children.

"What's wrong, Marilyn?" she asked. "You look a little rattled."

"Oh, God, I was having flashbacks from seeing Turbo Tu-Tone two nights ago!" Marilyn ranted. "I don't mean to be rude, but I need coffee?"

"I can tell you need some," Valerie noted. "Oh, but I haven't drank much coffee since I got that milkshake maker for my birthday. How about milkshakes for everyone instead?" Justin and Bridget smiled and cheered in acceptance, and noticed a small smile from Jeremy, looking up from another book he was reading. Right away, this prompted her to introduce her son to the Hobbes family.

"He looks to be such a sweet kid," Marilyn said. "He looks so much like Corinne." She whispered into Valerie's ear, and Valerie nodded and left. She returned with Snakes and Ladders and set it up on the coffee table.

"Why don't you two play with Jeremy while I talk with Mrs. Boston?" Marilyn said to her children. "It'll be just like playing with Cousin Corinne."

Valerie prepared the ingredients in a tall shaking cup, then as the machine was running, said to Marilyn, "So, tell me what went on with Bullseye the other night. I saw you at lunch, but I couldn't get anything out of you. You just stared off into space."

"Oh, Bullseye was wonderful, especially to the children," Marilyn said. "He even thinks Justin should become a police officer, and I think that's what he'll be trying to do with him. It's when I saw Turbo Tu-Tone in the buffet line at the restaurant that things started going south."

Valerie stared at her houseguest, stunned. "You can't be serious! What was he doing there, attempting to rob the cashiers?"

"I'm dead serious, Valerie. To start with, you remember that story I told about how I followed police cars chasing a stolen truck that forced a sudden stop? Turbo Tu-Tone was behind the wheel, but what I probably didn't tell you was that I think he was flirting with me as he was being carried away. I know he tried to hit on me."

Valerie turned off the milkshake maker, but before she could get the cups, "Turbo Tu-Tone tried to hit on you? Ugh, he and Big Boss' other bozos tried to get me to go out with them, and Big Boss too, most of all. And he would never accept that I was never into him." She retrieved two coffee mugs and three small cups from the cupboard. "What did he do to you?"

"Oh, nothing much, just shamelessly flirt with me – though I never noticed, but I suspected – and basically told me that he came just to see me. He even took a picture of Bullseye and me with his camera."

"He probably showed that picture to the Big Boss," Valerie said as she handed Marilyn her drink, then went to serve the children. "That is one man you don't want to get involved with. He's a crime lord around here, and Turbo is part of his vicious gang of criminals responsible for most crimes in existence – armed robberies, gang recruitment, thefts, extortion, racketeering, counterfeits. You name it, he'll do it. Well, maybe with the exception of prostitution." Valerie turned to see the children involved with their game, not paying attention to the conversation. Still, she could see Marilyn looked disapproving of her bringing up prostitution in their hearing.

"Sorry to say that last thing in front of your daughter," she muttered. "I know kids her age are impressionable."

"You couldn't come up with more appropriate synonyms?" Marilyn wondered. She looked at Jeremy. "I don't mean to criticize, but if this is how you talk here at home–"

"It WAS how I talked at home back in Parrish, Indiana," Valerie said, "especially when I was fighting with my ex-husband, Jeremy's father. And as horrid as his hearing is, he's heard worse from the ex, believe me. But please, let's not talk about that now." She sipped her milkshake, then took a bigger drink. "Big Boss and Turbo both tried to pursue me while I was with Barricade and some of his colleagues. There are three more who were also interested in me, Buttons McBoomBoom, Dr. Badvibes and Rock Crusher. Buttons is really scary; he has machine guns coming from his chest, for God's sake. Rock Crusher dresses like a jailbird, and I don't know about his personality, except he looks too stupid to have any. Then there's Dr. Badvibes. He was a little more polite in trying to win me over, but he needed to lose that freakish, geeky look. The others, I'm sure only wanted me to be a notch on their bedposts, if you get my drift, and that's why I wouldn't date any of them. Sure I was hungry for sex as well – I hadn't had any since Jeremy was born – but at least the C.O.P.S. showed me love as well."

She looked at Justin and Bridget playing happily with Jeremy. "Besides, Marilyn, and this is another reason why you should avoid the crooks – dating one of them can have you setting a bad example for your kids."

Marilyn looked at them, thought of Turbo and gasped. "Good point, Valerie. I'll stay with Bullseye."

"And what do you think of Bullseye?"

Marilyn smiled, looking love-struck. "I think he's wonderful," she said. "He's an excellent conversationalist, telling me about his past career accomplishments. An officer as well as a pilot. I only thought he gave orders to cops in cars as he kept track of pursuits from the air. But it turns out he has just as impressive a capture record as my husband did. And he's so attentive, too. I told him all about my accomplishments and living in Arizona, and he seemed rather interested. I was thinking maybe he wanted to live in Arizona himself. He asked about my husband, and I told him not in front of the kids, and he respected that. Oh, and I already mentioned how he is with the children. I honestly believe Justin wants to bond and have a relationship with him, I do. The only thing is he seemed a bit young for me. Did you ask how old he was?"

"I did focus on his face when he was rejecting me," Valerie answered. "He seemed to be no more than five years younger than you." She touched the back of her hand. "But if you're as confident about this as I've seen you at your work, then dating a younger man should be no problem for you." She thought about her dinner date with Hardtop four months ago, and shuddered. "Me, I prefer my men to be at least a few years older."

"So, how have you and Barricade been?" Marilyn asked curiously. "I mean, since you officially chose him as your one and only?"

"We've been seeing each other around," Valerie answered. "Of course, he's been working evening and night shifts most of this week, and as you saw, I've been pretty busy myself since the day we've hired you. I've been working all freaking week for that damn Gorgon Entertainment company, producing a series of new commercials for their music television stations and the affiliates. I mean, my God, besides their regular MusicMix and MusicMix Lite channels, which play twenty-four hours a day; I also had to do stuff for MusicMix Heavy, MusicMix Ghetto, Punch MusicMix, even that MusicMix Lite Retro. I have some stuff for that Lite Retro commercial that I'm going to send to Matt right away. Too bad you were already on assignment when this came up, I could've used your help."

"Neither Lancer nor Sussex mentioned anything to me."

"Well, Austin and Josh and Scott were willing to do this with me, as was another one of our younger workers, Wendy Salem. We could've gotten this done in two days if other project managers were willing to help us. But no, they chose to be old fogies who didn't want to deal with the pounding and the thumping!" Valerie drank more of her milkshake, hoping it would settle her nerves. "Thank God Peter and Jill were immediately added to the task when they were finished with previous assignments. I tell you, after this, I'm not going dancing at a nightclub until goddamn New Year's Eve! I'll tell Barricade it's strictly dinner, bowling and movies for a while!"

"Let's talk about your future," Marilyn suggested. "What are you going to do when you decide to… um… live together?"

Valerie answered right away, as if she'd been thinking about it for months. "I will be asking Barricade if that bitch, Linda Fortense, is still next door to him. I'm guessing she is, and she just found work at another agency here in town. If she is, I'll persuade him to move in with me. She was one of the five people we fired because she kept voicing her low opinion of my parenting, remember? Can you imagine what it'd be like living next door to her? Besides, my sister, Karen would want me to stay in her neighborhood, so she can keep taking care of Jeremy after school until I pick him up."

"That would be a better idea," Marilyn suggested, then looked at Jeremy again. Justin was helping him move his piece along the board. "Especially for Jeremy. I mean, who do you know in Barricade's neighborhood that will voluntarily look after him when you can't?"

Just minutes later, on her turn, Bridget landed on a square near the end of the game that was the beginning of a chute. She slid all the way down to a square numbered twenty-six. She immediately started to cry and Justin tried to calm her.

"Relax, Bridget, it's just a game!" he said.

She stopped crying but still looked pouty. Jeremy had an idea. "Mom!" he called. "I think… Bridget… needs… another… milkshake. Maybe… it'll… make her… feel… better."

"I was just about to offer Mrs. Hobbes another one," his mother replied. At first, Marilyn looked hesitant, but Valerie said, "Oh, it's okay. I have lots of milk. There's still half a jug left."

"Since you put it that way… all right," Marilyn responded.

Valerie turned to the boys. "What about you boys?"

"I'm good, thanks," Justin said.

"I still… have… some of… mine… left," Jeremy said.

Valerie retrieved the milk and other ingredients for another round.

* * *

"So who is this Nightshade?" Cheryl asked. 

She had Mace over to her house two evenings after overhearing Nightshade phone rant at China Grove. She'd thought about that incident and Nightshade after she went home from her date, that whole night and into the next day. She decided to call Mace on Sunday afternoon, and was able to reach him at his work. Now, he was standing with her in her kitchen, poised to explain his romantic past.

"Nightshade used to be a cat burglar, workin' fer the Big Boss," he explained. "She's known to be very greedy, especially when it comes to jewelry an' money, but she's probably stolen more jewelry than money. Wouldn't put that past her. It started about six months after Bulletproof formed C.O.P.S., that we'd been carryin' on a romance fer two years or so, before I met this other woman, Valerie Boston. You don't know anythin' about her either, do ya?"

Cheryl shook her head rapidly. "First, I want to hear about your earlier romance, Nightshade," she said.

"Like I said, it was six months after I joined C.O.P.S.," Mace said. "That day, I was invited to a charity ball to help raise money for the city's homeless. I tried to decline, 'cuz back then, I wasn't much into social gatherin's, an' I really wasn't interested in datin'. Ya should've heard one of my colleagues, Mainframe, jokin' about it. Drove me damn crazy! Anyway, later that day, I received a report that a girl named Cathleen Diamond had been kidnapped. It led me straight to Nightshade's apartment, where I found the whole place trashed and a gun left as evidence. I tried to arrest Nightshade on that spot, but she wouldn't comply. She insisted that she never did it, that she was set up by Buttons McBoomBoom 'cuz Big Boss wanted her to steal the charity ball money. She even tried to escape by tellin' me my shoe was untied, even though I was wearin' boots."

Cheryl immediately thought of her first encounter with Buttons McBoomBoom at the club on the date, and shuddered. "Dear God!" she moaned. "Buttons McBoomBoom! I swear, that freak has me in his very palm!"

"Anyway," Mace continued, "Nightshade told me that Cathleen Diamond was her sister, and she insisted that I help to set her free, but not before I turned her in a wanted criminal… again, she wasn't havin' it. She led me to the crooks' hideout and Buttons McBoomBoom, where she apparently showed me the disguise he wore pretendin' to be her. Green stripes and red polka dots. She said she looked awful in it, but… I kinda reassured her otherwise. Meanwhile, may I show ya the dumb-ass monkey suit I had to wear to the ball?"

Cheryl made a muffling noise, trying not to laugh as she pictured the ex-lovers in their formal wear.

"Anyway, there I was, standin' on the lookout fer Big Boss, while Nightshade tried to crack the combination to the safe, where Cathleen was trapped inside. Right when Big Boss saw me, he called in two more of his men, Turbo Tu-Tone an' Berserko. I stopped 'em before they could get to the safe, to protect the money from bein' stolen as Nightshade freed her sister. An' when she got her back, she gave me a thank you kiss fer my help. Later on, as Mainframe was crackin' her damn jokes, Nightshade called me at the headquarters to thank me, an' she even blew me a kiss. We managed to git her off.

"Fast forward to around six months later, an' Bulletproof suspended Highway an' me fer fist-fightin'. Don't ask me what was said, it was pretty offensive. Anyway, I decided to use this time off to meet Nightshade at an outdoor restaurant. There, she did the unthinkable – she asked me to marry her. I told her yes, on the condition that she gives up her criminal ways an' go straight."

Cheryl began to laugh aloud. Mace gave her a quizzical look and said, "What's so strange about me askin' Nightshade to give up crime to marry me?"

"It's not that," she said. "I was just laughing at the fact that _she_ asked _you_ to marry _her_! I'm sorry, but that's just very unromantically wrong! Why, when Wayne spent Christmas with me alone when I was twenty-three years old, he came out in his police uniform shirtless – he was just a rookie cop then – got down on his knee and presented me with my Christmas gift, my engagement ring. Then, in his best studly, sexy voice, he asked _me_ to marry _him_. It was like out of the pages of one of those Harlequin romances. That's how it should be."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mace said half-jokingly. "Anyway, then I began to ask about the string of jewelry store thefts that had been occurrin' over the past coupla months. She insisted she had nothin' to do with 'em, but I wouldn't believe her. When I tried to arrest her, she gave me this big ol' kiss with her knockout lipstick. I was outta it fer a little bit, an' when I awoke, I was left with Nightshade's purse, which had the lipstick an' a map to the area with all the jewelry store thefts. I showed this to Bulletproof, an' he quickly reinstated me to go after her. Guess what I found when I got there?"

"Nightshade holding the store owner hostage?" Cheryl guessed.

"Close," he answered. "Nightshade was cowerin' way up high on the top shelf, away from Shredder, the store's vicious ol' guard dog. I got the impression that it was the owner himself who was robbin' all those stores to sell the stolen loot in his store."

Cheryl whistled. "Talk about being desperate to make some money. Some people just weren't meant for a business career. So, Nightshade was being truthful all along? That's a switch."

"Yeah," Mace agreed. "An' when that bastard sent that damn dog after me, I found myself joinin' Nightshade on that top shelf. The owner himself was gettin' away, so I borrowed the lipstick for myself an' kissed the dog to sleep. The next thing I knew, Nightshade herself took off to pursue the crooked owner an' arrested him herself." He lowered his head a bit. "She was still put away fer attempted robbery."

Cheryl laughed louder than she did before. "Okay, this is getting too funny," she said. "You, a supposed tough guy, wearing _beauty products_ made for _women_? Oh, wait until the girls at work hear about this tomorrow! And a jewel thief making an arrest on the real guilty suspect in a caper? Suddenly, I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone!"

He waited until she was quiet to finish his story. "Anyway, when I talked with her in jail, I told her that the judge planned to reduce her sentence to probation for her part in the caper. Then, I surprised her with an engagement an' told her I bought it, I didn't steal it. She kissed me right then an' there, but I never wiped off her lipstick, an' she got some residue on her, so we both ended up fallin' asleep. We awoke about a half-hour later, an' I immediately wiped off the lipstick with my wet backhand before puttin' the ring on her. I wiped her lips too, an' we had a more romantic kiss this time."

"And what happened to Nightshade after that?" she asked.

"A lot of my off-duty time was devoted to her," he replied. "I only took her out to family restaurants; I don't like spendin' so much money on a girlfriend, though I knew she loved the theater an' other arts, an' she always expected diamonds an' jewelry – now those can be expensive. Most of the time, I took her dancin' an' sometimes durin' a slow song, they'd have the floor cleared just for the two of us. An' I loved to go swimmin' with her. One time just last summer, we even swam in the pond in Empire City Park, though not fer long. We had to git out before the authorities caught us. That kinda stuff's illegal, y'know.

"Then, things began to change just this spring. Nightshade started gettin' greedy again, and began actin' suspicious around me. I kinda got the hint from my team that she's been at it again, slippin' back to her old criminal ways. She got cold and distant towards me, though she said I started actin' like that with her first. I've also seen her out with hordes of other guys simply fer payment. She told me I wasn't satisfyin' her personal needs. As fer her crimes, I even saw videotaped evidence that she might have broken into the jewelry store to rob it, through when I brought it up with her, she said that could've been anyone."

"Was she sleeping with these men she was going out with?" Cheryl asked. "That's damn nasty!"

"She refused to tell me, and yet she wanted to know why I was suddenly bein' so mean to her," Mace answered. "Then, on Memorial Day weekend, at the annual Empire City police picnic, my colleagues an' I all met this real beautiful woman, Valerie Boston. Suddenly, I knew I didn't want Nightshade anymore."

"Valerie Boston," Cheryl repeated. "Never met her."

"Oh, she was really special," Mace told her. "She has an eleven-year-old son with Shaken Baby Syndrome, which was caused by her bastard of an ex-husband. She preaches about keepin' her patience with him all the time. He can be noisy handful at times, but he's really sweet. Did you see that episode of _Eye on Empire City_ last month, where Valerie an' I were on?"

"I don't do news programs, they're so boring. Anyway, you can tell me more about Valerie later, okay? She sounds like someone I should meet. How did Nightshade take you dating her?"

"Not so good. First of all, I was competin' with four of my colleagues fer Valerie's hand. When Nightshade learned about me an' her, she became furious. I won't get into great detail of all the things she did – then I'd be here 'til midnight – but she sabotaged a good part of my time with her. Once, when I took her son swimmin' with me, she even shattered the glass dome in the ceilin' as a way to greet me!" Mace especially thought about the time Nightshade tried to seduce him at Valerie's house, and when she and Big Boss ruined their trip to the movies, then tried to move in on him at the Electric Bullet nightclub. He shuddered violently.

"I have this feeling she's going to horn in on me if she gets my address," Cheryl said. "I hope you managed to finally get rid of her… or so you thought."

"A few days after Valerie an' I were on that show," Mace said, "Nightshade called my apartment seven times. I kept track. Anyway, I got tired of hearin' her messages, so I finally picked up an' invited myself over there, if that meant gettin' rid of her fer good. She tried to convince me that everythin' my colleagues said about her was false, but I wasn't havin' it. I proceeded to bring up what she did to me in the spring, but she defended it, sayin' she was only takin' advice from her sister. Why Cathleen would tell her to date other men, I dunno. An' she added that she was goin' to the Big Boss fer a friendly ear. As fer takin' guys money, there was this shit about how rich girls expect men to pay fer everythin' and some didn't have the cash, so she borrowed their credit cards.

"When I brought Valerie into this, she immediately called her a 'cop-chasin' slut' – her words – an' said that she learned about her datin' activities from her secretary. Nightshade claimed that Valerie's an' my love wasn't legit, and she added that shit about how she used her son's condition to spoil him. Nightshade believes Valerie's a weak an' lazy mom, an' that my parents would think the same way an' never approve of her – that last part was true. But that claim about Valerie bein' a bad mother was utter crap if I heard it! First of all, some of the major things I liked about Valerie was that she's very down-to-earth, grounded, an' she doesn't want a man to spoil her with expensive stuff all the time."

"I'm like that, too," Cheryl said. "If I were to marry a rich man, and he started surprising me with diamonds all the time, I'd have to tell him to slow it down. I don't want to be spoiled, either. After all, what kind of example does that set for my kids?"

"Exactly Valerie's thoughts," Mace said. "Which is why I admired the way she was with her kid. But Nightshade always thought that I wanted Valerie 'cuz Valerie had a better body than Nightshade. Valerie's got long, wavy blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, an' legs as long as the eye can see."

"If she's the same age as I am, or nearly so," Cheryl said, "I'll be shocked. I'll be demanding her secret to looking that beautiful at forty." She laughed whole-heartedly.

"So I take it ya wanna meet her?" Mace grinned.

"If she's as down-to-earth as you say, then of course I would. I just wish I had the skills to attract five officers at once."

Mace frowned a little. "Now, that sounded a bit insecure, if ya ask me." He walked closer to her and nuzzled her cheek. "You know how beautiful an' lively you are. You showed the latter at the club the other night, didn't ya? Why would you need the others when ya got me?"

Cheryl smiled back. "Of course, you're right. I just want to know her secrets, that's all." She kissed him lustrously for a few moments.

* * *

Earlier that day, Valerie had just completed her presentation speech for the MusicMix commercials. She wanted to take a break from her laptop, but then remembered her radio script for JEWEL-FM. The radio station for which she did a commercial in the late summer. She had suggested it to them when they accepted, and had been working on it as a side project. She hadn't worked on it at all since resuming work after the interviews, and wanted to see how much left she had to do. She took her laptop out to the living room, where Jeremy was playing with some toy cars. 

It was one final scene, then she'd revise it later. She typed as she watched Jeremy play. After writing three pages, she finally had the plotline wrapped up, and saved her document. At that time her phone rang. She went to her kitchen to see Barricade's name on the caller I.D.

"Why, hello," she said when she saw his image. "What a relief to finally see and talk to you."

"I take it you had a busy week?" he guessed.

"You should've been with me," she said. "Six commercials for the MusicMix music station. I spent a whole damn week searching for appropriate video, getting it in a certain order that will win the clients over, searching for extra stuff to put in for the 'build-up' they need, recording voice-overs. Thank God for the younger generation working at our company. I have a damn good mind to call my cable company and cancel all my MusicMix channels. I have no desire to ever watch another music video!"

Barricade looked pitiful for her.

"Oh, and I also finished my first draft of my radio play for JEWEL-FM," she added. "I never told you anything about it, have I? It's about a woman who's pregnant with her police officer husband's baby, but he's suddenly killed on duty one day. So she tries to get back into the dating scene, wondering who will accept her and her baby. Of course, she is met with criticism by other police families for not giving herself enough time to mourn. It's supposed to be pretty funny with a bit of drama thrown in."

"Sounds interesting," he said. "So I take it you're all finished with what you have to do? How would you and Jeremy like to come over then? I'll cook up something really nice."

"Why, dinner at your house sounds exquisite," she accepted. "I'd love to. Just let me get Jeremy ready, and I'll see you in fifteen, twenty minutes." She hung up, turned off her laptop, went to her room to change her clothes and makeup. She also picked out a nice sweatshirt for Jeremy to change into.

When Valerie arrived, she was immediately turned on by Barricade's outfit. A white button-down shirt with a green pattern design she couldn't identify, and black slacks. She kissed him and whistled, and said, "Classy outfit. You put that on just for dinner? It looks real stylish on you."

"Yeah, I should be a plainclothes detective," Barricade joked as he led mother and son into the living room.

"I just wanted to try out a new chicken pie recipe," he said. "One of my aunts e-mailed it to me. It sounds really good."

"You mean one of those things you make from scratch?" Valerie asked. "With a real pie crust and everything? I don't think I've had one of those in years, probably since my wedding."

In the kitchen, Valerie helped prepare the meal; she was mixing the peas, carrots and corn while Barricade was chopping the boneless chicken breasts and added gravy. As she poured the vegetables in with the meat, she suddenly began to think about what she said to Marilyn about him, about who should move in with whom. She noticed that he wasn't talking about anything related to it, or their future; just a recent phone call from one of his sisters about a fight she had with one of their brothers. Valerie wasn't paying much attention; she wondered when he would stop talking so she could bring this up.

He noticed she looked a little lost to him. "Are you okay, Valerie?' he asked. "What's wrong? I don't think you heard another word I said when I got to the part about Reggie calling Colleen a whore."

"I was just thinking," she said. "I had Marilyn over to my place yesterday, and while we were talking about my MusicMix project, somehow you came up."

Now Barricade was suddenly interested in what she had to say. "Really?"

"Yes, and since I picked you, and I'm now eager to meet your whole large family, I think maybe it's time we talked about our future. I know it's only been almost five months since we met, and you've had my undivided attention for two weeks, but still."

"It's okay. I look at you and Jeremy, and while you don't even look like you're struggling, it's obvious that you want to get married." He took two steps forward to take her hand. "I do, too. Most of my unmarried team members want to as well."

"Which is why you all competed for my hand to begin with," she laughed, then calmed down quickly. "But seriously, Barricade, I do think that if we want to start living as husband and wife, we need to start discussing plans for us. I was telling Marilyn that maybe you should move in with me, that is, when you feel the time is right."

Barricade looked shocked, but saw Valerie looked pretty serious about it. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Because given all the times you've been here – every time I hosted dinner – I was thinking that maybe you should move in with me. My God, all the love we made…"

"Including that time Linda Fortense walked in on us from next door?" Valerie reminded him. "That's one of the major reasons why I want you to move in with me. I really do not feel like living next door to _her_! Remember when I told you about that fiasco with the Shaken Baby Syndrome awareness commercial last month? I must have. She was one of five people I got fired from work as a result. She's probably still pissed at me for it. I'm sorry, but I don't want to get into a puissant bitching match with her every time she sees me in your backyard. And if she comes over and starts hitting Jeremy because she doesn't like him running around screaming–"

"I get it, I get it," Barricade replied. "Is that the only reason why you don't want to live in this house?"

"Well, speaking of Jeremy, what'll happen if I were to go out of town on business and you're at the headquarters?" she asked. "Who in this neighborhood is going to look after him? Certainly not that bitch, so don't even think about her. And I don't know of anyone else who could and would muster enough patience to properly care for a child like Jeremy. I have to stay in Karen's neighborhood; that's the reason why I live in the house I chose on Turin."

Barricade nodded and said softly, "I understand."

"It shouldn't be so hard," Valerie said. "All you need to pack are your books, clothes, all the food out of your refrigerator and freezer and miscellaneous items – including your mother's china and silverware. My house is already furnished for you."

"You already convinced me. All right, I'll move in with you. Just tell me when, and I'll enlist some packing help." He let her fill the pie crust before he packed on the top part, and put it in the oven. She kissed his cheek.

"And speaking of your refrigerator and freezer," she said, "where do you keep your French fries? I want to get them ready."

"I have a bag in the freezer part of the fridge here," he answered, "but maybe we should wait fifteen minutes before we add them."

She smiled devilishly at him. "Then maybe we should speed up the process." She wrapped herself around him, and they started making out, Valerie stopping to check the time every few minutes, ignoring all of her son's outbursts. When he softly reminded her of the time, Valerie left to put fries on a cookie sheet, then when it was back in, they resumed their love.

* * *

The next morning, as Mace and Barricade were about to check into the headquarters, the heard a familiar woman yelling out Mace's name. He turned and saw a vengeful Nightshade walking quickly towards him. Before he could speak, she extended her hand to slap his face. 

"You son of a bitch!" she spat at her ex-boyfriend. "How dare you sneak around with another woman like that?! Are you completely oblivious to my feelings?"

"Nightshade, you aint got no feelin's!" Mace spat back. "An" I ain't got nothin' to say to you!" Nightshade slapped him again, then kicked his leg hard.

Barricade started to intervene, but Mace stopped him. "I was the one who dated her," he said. "I can handle this. You go inside." He was hopping around on his good leg now.

"Look, Nightshade, I thought I made it perfectly clear!" he told her. "Whatever we had, I don't want it anymore. How quickly you ferget that night I came to yer apartment an' told ya off!"

"Excuse me for being so optimistic!" she sneered. "I thought that you'd change your mind and come back to me once you broke up with that fake blonde slut, Valerie. But no, you're too hard-headed to see the feelings I still have for you!"

"You slipped back into the life crime when I told ya to go straight!" he shouted. "A cop an' a career jewel thief? Ya got any idea how that'll make me look? At least Cheryl does somethin' legitimate with her life."

"I'll bet you don't even know what _Cheryl_ does for a living!"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Mace hopped towards the door. "You leave me alone, understand? The next time I see ya in my face, I'll cuff ya an' take ya in to Bulletproof myself!" He hopped into the building now.

Nightshade just shook her head and furiously walked away. She now decided she had another romance to break up.


	5. More Harassment From The Crooks

Author's Note: Hello, readers, it's me, and wow, how long has it been since my last update? A really long time. I've had so much going on in my life. I've posted on soap opera blogs, increasing my post count (one I have since dropped due to extreme nastiness) and I have been quite active on this site called Yahoo! Answers, where I'm asking questions (seldom) and answering them, and racking up points in the process – especially for getting Best Answer. I'm also my some personal changes in my life, including getting a great new job somewhere in the big city and (hopefully) getting a new place of my own so I can live independently. Anyway, that's all for now here. Read and enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 5

Bowzer and Debra had dated a couple of times since their first meeting at the park. As soon as they'd picked up her girls, after he privately told her his story about Valerie that day, he'd told her about some of the major arrests that got him and Blitz noticed by the C.O.P.S. team. She never responded, just smiled, and he could tell she was impressed.

Between that day and their first actual date, Debra had been thinking about Blitz's robotic form. So when they agreed to meet at Toretti's Family Pizza for dinner that Wednesday, she decided to ask him about it.

"So tell me, how did you get that computerized K-9 of yours?" she asked. "Was it provided to you when you first joined the team?"

"No, actually, I've had Blitz for some years now," Bowzer replied. "He actually started out as a normal dog. Around four years ago, we were chasing a getaway car that somehow lost control eventually. Blitz, with his keen eyes, noticed a little girl, probably around Emma's age, in the line of fire. He got out the child just in time, but got flattened by the reckless car a second later. Crashed into a concession stand!"

Debra cringed and started making gruesome faces.

Bowzer looked horrified. "Oh my God!" he cried. "Did that happen to your dog, too?"

"No, it's just that I'm glad the girls aren't here to hear this," she replied. "Stuff like this would be a bit much for them to handle."

Bowzer took another slice of pizza, and when he swallowed the first bite, he said, "So, enough about me. What about you? How are you making a living these days? Did you, um, have a career when you were married to Keith?"

Debra smiled and answered, "Actually, I've been a wedding planner for the past sixteen years. I've worked with a great number of couples, but I've earned more bread working with the richest families in all of Chicago."

He nodded in interest. "I'll bet you planned your own wedding, didn't you?"

"Well, I did the best I could on a five thousand dollar budget," she replied. "Twenty-five hundred went to the church alone; another one thousand went to the reception hall, and a total of nearly five hundred on bridesmaid dresses and wedding invitations. Much of the rest, I spent on decorations. My parents decided it was cheaper that I wear my mother's wedding dress – and my younger sister wore it when _she_ got married, too – and with the help of my mother, sister, aunts and several female cousins, I made all the centerpieces for the reception hall tables, all the floral bouquets for all the church pews, and all the other decorations. The year before I got married, my father gave me an iPod for Christmas, along with this clock radio that works with it, then installed a downloading system and iTunes on my computer, and said I had to download my own music for the reception." She drank some Diet Coke and finished her current slice of pizza.

"Let me guess, not enough room in the budget for a deejay," Bowzer laughed.

"It was his idea of saving money," Debra said. "It was a nice gift, nonetheless. Thank God I have iTunes in my vendor list. I depend on them for making CD's. Forty-five dollars for a yearly membership, can you believe this? I'm all for abiding by the law, of course, but to have to pay for music is just wrong, in my opinion. Someone ought to do something."

She spent fifteen minutes talking about some of her most memorable clients. "Most of the brides and their families that I've worked with were very nice, and you should hear some of the things they said. One father even recommended me to the heads of his rival companies whose daughters were also getting married." But she also mentioned some of the "bridezillas" she encountered. "Five years ago, I worked with two brides who were having a dual ceremony – cousins Celeste Powers and Jennifer Brightman. Their father and uncle, David Powers – he owns a medium-sized software and accessories company in Chicago – informed me they have a seventy-five hundred dollar budget. You should've seen the church they wanted to marry in. That alone went over the budget – we're talking around fifteen thousand to conduct a wedding. This was an Irish Catholic cathedral, and the family wasn't even Irish Catholic to begin with! They wanted royal violet, hot pink and magenta silk flower bouquets on every pew, and those are damn expensive to put together. Plus ruby red poinsettias for the centerpieces at the reception hall, which they wanted to hold in this large, fancy ballroom hall downtown. They just wanted the fairy tale, I tell you. That kind of wedding would've cost about eight times the budget. I won't tell you all the horrible things they screamed at me when I told them it was too much, but they just bitched and complained at all the suggestions I gave them, constantly talking about a 'stingy budget.' I was about ready to give up on them. It was four months of unabashed hell, and I just did a happy dance when it was all over. Such spoiled brats! Stephanie and Emma behave much better than these two did!

"Another client I had started out okay, but unfortunately, she doesn't take to kindly to bad news, or if things don't go exactly the way she wants. Mind you, her demands were reasonable. However, she put up such a fuss at every gown fitting because she couldn't lose any weight, and kept bawling over the size ten dresses. Then, a week before the wedding, I learned that the centerpieces for the reception had not arrived, the hall workers suddenly got sick and could not set up, and the deejay cancelled at the last minute. I further learned that the ice sculpture they wanted had melted so the bride and groom looked like wrestling midgets. My client exploded when I broke the news. I had to beg my girls to gather up their friends to make all new decorations, while I had to find a band _and _a quick set-up crew. The guests raved over the décor and the set-up efforts, but the entertainment backfired. I was able to hire a wedding singer, but they all thought he was horrible. She was crying that her wedding was ruined, as if being a 'fat bride' wasn't enough!"

She then started explaining about the client who made the nasty comment at her husband's funeral, but Bowzer touched her hand to stop her. "It's okay," he said. "I kind of overheard at the church. That wasn't very nice of her. I wanted to go up there and tell her off, but my colleagues who came with me told me not to."

Debra took the hand that was touching hers. "Thank you for saying that," she replied. "Nice to know that some people can be compassionate."

She began to wonder why she never approached Bowzer there at Keith's funeral. She knew she was in mourning and in no mood to talk to any strangers. But perhaps she never really noticed him, and never really introduced herself to any members of C.O.P.S. who had come. She suddenly began to regret that, but then wondered what might have happened if she met and fell in love with Bowzer so soon.

"You're awfully quiet now," he said. "How quickly you went from being a chatterbox to this."

"I was just thinking what would've happened if you and I had met and hit it off right there at the service," she said. "Would you have made me happy again? Of course, that means you wouldn't have had to deal with that slut you dated."

"But everyone would criticize you for bouncing back so soon," Bowzer said. "And your girls wouldn't have very much respect for you… or me. I think that time at the park was just the right time." He kissed the back of her hand.

Almost a week later, Bowzer was driving over to Debra's house for dinner, eager to get to know the family better. Blitz was barking happily in shotgun, and his master smiled. He was a little disturbed when he turned on Ravenell Street, where Debra lived. It was the same street that Rhonda Shewfelt, his ex-girlfriend's sister, lived on. His stomach felt uneasy as he passed Rhonda's house, and he thought he would lose concentration on his driving. Thankfully, Debra's address was fifteen houses away, on the opposite end of the street.

His uneasiness suddenly disappeared when he parked onto Debra's driveway. When he let Blitz out, he smiled and rubbed his steel torso. He said, "If Debra and her girls were friendly with Dodger as the family pet, they can sure get used to you."

When he rang the doorbell, he was surprised to see Emma greeting him. Blitz was barking with happiness when he saw her.

"Emma?" Bowzer guessed. "I recognize Blitz's reaction to you. Where's your mother?"

"Hi, Bowzer!" Emma replied. "Mom's in the kitchen, still cooking. We're having a really delicious lasagna with potato salad."

"Emma!" she heard her mother call. "That was supposed to be a surprise!" Soon, Bowzer saw Debra join her daughter in the front hall. She let him and Blitz in, and the new couple kissed.

"Glad you could make it, handsome," she grinned.

Bowzer could smell the dinner from the hall. "Could your little girl be right?" he asked. "Is that lasagna I smell?"

"Double stuffed with meat," Debra said. "Just the way Keith liked it. Of course, that's also how he liked cannelloni. I kept making them that way after he died, for the girls."

"That's wonderful," Bowzer replied. "Nice that you have something for them to remember their father by."

Debra began to peel potatoes for the salad. "Emma, she said, "could you please go get Stephanie from her room? I'll need her help with this salad."

Bowzer smiled and said, "So, Debra, you never really told me about your girls while we were running."

"I didn't?" she wondered. Soon, Stephanie entered the kitchen, and Bowzer started to wonder just how tall she was. "Well, Stephanie here is eleven years old and just started sixth grade, and Emma is eight and in third grade."

"Stephanie's eleven?" he repeated. He asked her to stand by her mother. Next to Debra, he observed that Stephanie was around half a foot shorter than her. He asked, "Stephanie, exactly how tall are you?"

"Oh, around five-foot-three," she answered. "I know, I'm tall enough to pass for fifteen. I get that a lot in my class."

Stephanie put on a pot of water to boil, and chopped the peeled potatoes into cubes while her mother was preparing all the other ingredients. The girl said, "As you could probably guess, Bowzer, I'm very physically inclined. I enjoy running to school and back. Beats having to put up with noisy freaks on the school bus to and fro."

"Thankfully, you can walk to school and home in our neighborhood," Debra added. "Speaking of which, how's your homework coming along?"

"Finished my Social Studies just as Emma came to get me, now all I have is Math," she answered.

While the potatoes were boiling, Debra was talking about the upcoming Halloween. She said, "Emma's really excited about going. Just this weekend, I took her and Stephanie costume shopping. We found this pretty pink princess outfit that looked so precious on her. At the store, I ran into a woman named Nancy Klassen; she has a daughter in Emma's class and one of those PTA mothers. You want to know how political this woman is? We're electing a president this year, so she buys a Statue of Liberty costume for her daughter, and has told me that she's going to spray-paint a flashlight and an old princess crown of hers that looks like the one on the statue, both light blue. She also told me that she's spent many a lunch hour typing up these political flyers that her kid's going to pass out to the candy people, reminding them the importance of voting. I think this woman's obsessed."

"And what about Stephanie?" Bowzer asked.

"I'm going as a female cop," Stephanie replied. "I also signed up to receive one of those UNICEF boxes that people put money in. Oh, and my school's having a Halloween school spirit day on the thirtieth. We're going to having classes in our costumes."

"Nice," Bowzer replied, then turned to Debra. "Um, Deb, are these girls going trick-or treating with friends?"

"Yeah, I'm escorting a large group," she said. "Stephanie and Emma are bringing along three friends that they made on the first day of school."

The lasagna was ready nearly twenty minutes later, just as the potatoes had been drained and mixed into the salad. Bowzer waited until everyone was served before speaking to the girls.

"So, Stephanie, Emma, I'm just dying to know," he said, "what do you want to be when you get older and you're out of high school?"

Stephanie spoke first. "I'm going to see about a college that has a good criminal justice program, and go to the police academy. I want to be a police officer, just like Dad was. Maybe I'll go into the K-9 unit and have a partner just like Dodger." She took a deep breath to keep from crying, and shook her head a bit to keep from remembering.

Bowzer began to take an interest in her, something that told him Stephanie would be perfect to mentor. He touched the back of her hand. "You know," he said, "you seem like the perfect one to be a cop. I mean, the way you're so physically inclined. How fast can you run? You know, there's this indoor track at the pet gym I go to with Blitz when the weather gets cold. Maybe one of these days, you can accompany Blitz and me."

"I'd love to," Stephanie replied.

Then he smiled at Emma. "And what about you, Emma? What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I don't know yet," Emma said quickly.

Debra pointed at Stephanie. "You should see her school process book. You know, that book that has her school pictures, and all the information about her homeroom, teacher's name and everything? Both the girls have one. Anyway, for _this_ one, I had to check off 'police officer' in the 'When I Grow Up' section. Kindergarten to grade five. I'm sure this year won't be any different. As for Emma, I'm trying to get her into the wedding and event planning business. I think it'd be nice if someone followed in my footsteps. I tend to take both my girls to work with me on their school holidays, and Emma enjoys making frilly decorations for weddings I plan, don't you, Emma?"

"Yes, Mom," the younger girl replied.

When he finished his first serving, Bowzer told Debra, "That was delicious. You really are a good cook."

"Thank you," Debra replied. "Would you like another slice?"

"I would, please!" Emma said.

Bowzer smiled and added, "Me, too, please."

"None for me," Stephanie refused. "It's very good, but an aspiring girl cop needs to watch her waistline. May I be excused? My Math awaits." Debra nodded and Stephanie left.

When they were finished their second servings, Bowzer said to Debra, "After we get these dishes, I was thinking maybe you, me and the girls can take Blitz for a walk."

"That sounds like a good idea," she replied. She ran the dishwater, waiting for it to get hot. "I'll wash, you dry."

Five minutes later, Debra put the lasagna pan in last and let it soak, just as Bowzer dried the cooking pot for the potatoes. When they were getting ready for their walk, he offered to put her jacket on her. He did, and she kissed his cheek and said, "Thank you, Bowzer. You're so sweet."

She went to Stephanie's room to see her adding and subtracting groups of multi-digit numbers. "How much longer will this take you?" she asked.

"Five to ten minutes," her daughter answered. "It's okay, you, Bowzer and Emma can go on without me." She grinned. "If I get done before you get home, I'll work even further. Do another page of problems. I'll impress the smarts out of Mrs. Decker."

"Oh, yes, your teacher will call me from work saying you murdered the grade curve." Debra immediately walked out. She saw that Bowzer and Emma already had their jackets on, and Blitz was barking eagerly, so she put on her own coat and shoes quickly and wordlessly.

It was a crisp evening in late October, and already starting to get dark. As the new couple left the driveway, Emma suddenly asked, "Bowzer, doesn't Blitz like to walk on a leash or something?"

He laughed and answered, "No, Emma, he doesn't need one. Didn't I tell you that Blitz can think like a human being? He will normally walk or run beside me, but I'll usually tell him to heel if he sees a dog he perceives to be threatening."

As they were walking, Debra began to think of how Bowzer and Stephanie started to bond, and she had an idea. "Bowzer," she said, "what are you planning to do for Halloween this weekend? Is this when you start community service?"

"Yeah, apparently there's this women's shelter that immediately wants to take me as soon as my suspension's over," he said. "I'm planning on doing the old 'nine-to-five' routine with that Saturdays and Sundays. Should take me about nine weekends to finish one hundred fifty hours."

"Because I was thinking maybe you can come over Halloween night and tend to Stephanie's group, while I go around with Emma," Debra suggested.

Bowzer smiled. "I'd like that, thank you." They kissed.

A few miles down the road, they saw a maroon car slowing down beside them, driving the same direction and pace they were walking. The passenger windows were dark and seemed to be one-sided – whoever was driving could see them but they couldn't see the driver. The driver saw Debra and tried to flirt.

They stopped and the car stopped with them. Moments later, the driver stepped out and revealed himself. He wore a purplish maroon buttoned shirt and tan slacks that Debra thought looked tacky, and big brown loafers that she almost mistook for clown shoes. His face looked like a wrinkling pear, his brown hair looked like it can't be combed properly, and a strange model of eyeglasses that would look good on a rock star. Bowzer especially noticed the man's oversized brain encased in an acrylic glass dome. He was shocked and could tell who this person was. Blitz immediately began to growl.

"Dr. Badvibes!" he nearly shouted. "What do you think you're doing here?!"

Dr. Badvibes folded his arms and pouted at the K-9 expert. "Really, kind officer," he replied. "Is that any way to greet someone who just happens to be in the neighborhood?"

The mad scientist proceeded to open the passenger door. "Come out, Buzzbomb," he said. "There are some really nice people I want you to meet." He was looking especially at Debra, then activated what looked to be a robot passenger ramp. They saw a robot that looked as if he wore two basins like sandwich bread for a body. This robot had a buzzsaw for one arm and a clamper for the other, and had an acrylic glass dome on his head like his master. Bowzer, Debra and Emma heard him speak in robot dialect that turned slow and lovey-dovey once he spotted Emma. He went towards the girl and wrapped his arms around her.

"Aw, isn't that sweet," Dr. Badvibes cooed. "It seems my robot really loves you, little girl." He looked up at Debra. "And you must be her mother. Who are you, my sweet?"

"My name is Debra Janeway," she replied. "I'm actually an Empire City socialite who frequents parties thrown by the wealthy and popular. I'm into professional sports, and have been married four times to infamous sports agents in this town. My daughter here just happens to belong to my third husband. And yes, I'm still legally married, but am in the middle of a divorce. Bowzer here is just helping me out financially. Most importantly, I have a fondness for men who have the smarts, builds and leadership skills of a professional football quarterback. I'm not into geeky mad scientist types like you. So please, kindly take your robot's filthy and dangerous hands off my daughter, take your car and go away."

Dr. Badvibes looked unconvinced. "You don't look like my visual definition of a socialite, Debra dear," he said. "And I don't believe you've been married four times, either. I think you look beautiful, nevertheless. And you say you're into rich men. Why, I make an annual sum of three hundred thousand dollars, probably more than this very member of C.O.P.S. that you're with. And my robot there seems to love little children. Another plus for me. Perhaps we can go out to a movie Friday night. I read there will be a space thriller festival."

"Forget it!" Debra snapped. "I already have a man right here!"

"You heard her!" Bowzer snapped as he took out his communication device. "So why don't you and your robot take your car out of here before I contact Bulletproof and charge you for harassment?"

"Suit yourself," Dr. Badvibes said, then called for Buzzbomb. "Come, Buzzbomb. It's time for us to move along!" The robot took his arms away from Emma and wheeled back into the car. When Dr. Badvibes drove off, Debra started to cry.

Before Bowzer could ask what was wrong, she wailed, "Oh, Bowzer, I must be a very ugly woman to attract a nerd like that so suddenly! Please say something to make me feel beautiful!"

"I hate to break this to you, sweetheart," he said, "but you also attracted one of the Big Boss' famous criminal henchmen." That made Debra cry harder, and she spent the rest of the walk crying on her boyfriend's shoulder.

"Don't cry, Debra," Bowzer said. "I know a few chocolate desserts from heart. I'll make some up for you and both girls when we get home."

* * *

Since her first date with Sundown, Lorna had decided to start up her own business from home. She planned a business providing two services – cooking and catering for social events, and housecleaning for the public. She spent two days writing a proposal that the bank approved for a loan. She knew she had lots of cooking and cleaning equipment in her apartment, so that Saturday, she bought some cookbooks for fancy dishes for the catering part of her business. She asked Jackson to design a website for her and spent a week typing out information for it, including her personal "About Me" page. 

She didn't tell Sundown about it for over two weeks – when she was ready to go into business! The night before Halloween, over a steak dinner at a fancy grill restaurant, she revealed her plan.

"I spent the day after reflecting on my life as a housewife," she said, "all the meals I cooked for Stuart and the boys, an' how I was a slave to my mop an' vacuum cleaner, just happily wiping off kitchen counters. I thought maybe I'd share those services with the rest of Empire City."

"That's a mighty good idea," he replied. "Cleanin' houses fer people when you aren't caterin' to weddin's an' reunion dinners. I reckon you might make a lotta money with this."

Sundown immediately started thinking about the proposal Valerie came to him with a week ago, moonlighting a model for Texas Pride jeans. He had talked with Bulletproof about this in the past week, but neither of them had come to a decision yet. He decided to share this with Lorna.

"And speakin' of jobs," he said, "ya remember me tellin' ya 'bout Valerie Boston an' her career in advertisin'? Late last month, she did an advertisin' campaign for a jeans company housed in our native Texas called Texas Pride. I won't git into the grisly details, but when her original assignment got off track due to a crime the C.O.P.S. were stoppin' at the modelin' agency she was workin', Valerie decided to fill in some time by havin' me model four different colors of jeans in a separate project. Just last week, she came to Bulletproof wit a letter in hand, which he passed along to me. Texas Pride wants me to work as their jeans model."

Lorna was immediately awed, and began to stare at him. She was picturing him modeling jeans in cowboy shirts and T-shirts. She immediately felt herself quivering lustfully as she pictured him shirtless, too. She could definitely see him as a model still active at his age, if he was never part of the Texas Rangers.

"I think you should take this opportunity, and have Bulletproof give them his blessing," she said. "Even at your age, you'd still have the looks to be in pictures, photos, silver screen or television. Oh, but if ya moved to Hollywood an' got into show business, you could've been a modern-day Clark Gable. Hell, you could've outshined George Clooney and Tom Selleck even."

He blushed a little and replied a soft, "Why, thank you, ma'am."

"I'm serious, Sundown," she replied. "You know the only reason why I was attracted to you when we met at that country club, was because I thought ya looked so damn good. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

She thought of kissing him right there in the restaurant, but her conscious told her to stop. She suddenly grabbed the ledge of the table and leaned back in her chair without tipping it, as a way of telling herself, "Put on the brakes, woman." She somehow knew public affections could embarrass her, and scare Sundown. But he looked at her strange.

"Is there a problem, Lorna?" he asked. "Ladies don't normally grab the table an' lean back like that."

"Sorry, just stopping myself from getting all lustful," she said. "Don't wanna do anything in public that I'll regret." She sat up straight and pulled her chair in. "But, really, I'm think you should take that modeling gig with the Texas Pride company. I think some moonlighting oughta be good fer you."

"Y'know what, yer absolutely right." He reached across to take her hand. "I reckon maybe I will."

When they were finished their meal, Sundown led Lorna from the restaurant, opened the passenger side of his truck, and she was awed when he got her settled inside. She cooed and said, "Sundown, you're just too much. I always appreciate men going the extra mile in gentleman-like behavior." When he got settled, "So, what's our next stop? I'm hoping it's that country club we met at. It was such a magical night. I would sure love to recreate it."

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm reckonin' maybe we go see a movie. There's this nice-lookin' western romance that's opens in the theaters this weekend, an' it had me thinkin' 'bout you an' me. Hope you don't mind dinner an' a movie. I know some women reckon it's a little cliché, but –"

"Sundown, just because something's been done a million times before, it don't make it cliché," Lorna assured him. "Let's head 'er out!"

They arrived at the Golden Gate movie theater, where Sundown spied the movie he was talking about. "Ah, here we are," he declared. "_The Miracle Lady_. You'll love this one, Lorna."

They walked inside, and she was looking around at all the advertising of movies scheduled to open in the next three months. While her date was paying for the tickets, she noticed a bald, muscle-bound man in a jailbird outfit walk inside. Seconds later, she started feeling confused and uneasy as the jailbird man made eye contact with her and started flirting.

She went up to Sundown, tugged on his shirt and pointed at the flirter. "Sundown, do you know who that is, that man a few yards down? He seems to be romantically interested with me, too."

Sundown looked at him and gasped. He quickly took her in the direction of theater number five, where their movie was playing – away from the known stranger. When he was sure the man wasn't coming after them, he whispered as lowly as he can, "That man you just saw an' asked about in the lobby, that there's Rock Crusher. He's a member of one of Empire City's most crooked criminal gang. You ever heard of the Big Boss?"

Lorna shook her head. "Other than reading about him in the papers, no," she answered.

"Ooh, that man is quite dangerous," Sundown warned her. "He's responsible fer all the crimes that have been takin' place here – lootin', trafficin' racketeerin' – with the exceptions of drug pushin' an' prostitution, you name it, he's done it. Best not to caught up wit him or any of his group, Rock Crusher included. That Big Boss will think of nothin' to kill or injure you wit one punch if you don't do what he says."

Now Lorna looked fearful. "Right, I'll keep that in mind."

Just then, they noticed Rock Crusher headed their way. Sundown and Lorna looked horrified, but before they could say anything, they heard Rock Crusher say loudly, "Well, well, well, ain't ya Lorna Waters? I think I heard about you on the news. Ain't you some sort of death penalty advocate?"

She looked shocked and disgusted, like she wanted to be nauseous. But she took a few breaths and answered calmly, "No, I'm not a death penalty advocate. I've actually been anti-death penalty since losing my husband to it two years ago."

"Lorna!" Sundown cried. "Don't you tell him so much 'bout yerself!" He glared directly at Rock Crusher. "An' what in tarnations are ya doin' here, Crusher? Tryin' to hit on my date?"

"I think yer date looks very pretty there, copper," Crusher answered. "Almost as pretty as Valerie, in fact."

Lorna looked halfway flattered. "Why, thank you," she replied. "An', yes, I know all about this Valerie that Sundown here used to date. But you're not really my type. I like my men toned an' athletic, but not all big an' bulging. Too much muscle an' mass equals too much power in my books. See, I want a man who looks like he stepped from the pages of _GQ_, but he has to be gentleman enough to let me do what I wish, because I'm a lady who knows her limits. I'm so sorry."

Then she grabbed her date's arm and hurriedly walked into the theater. "C'mon, Sundown, we're gonna be late fer the movie."

They sat in the middle row, just in time for the opening previews. During those and the opening credits, Lorna stared at the entrance way just in case Rock Crusher came in. After five minutes of staring, the doors closed, and Crusher did not come in. Lorna sat back, focused on the movie. Later, as she felt the romance of the movie began, she rested her head upon Sundown's shoulder.

About forty minutes into the movie, Lorna felt like getting some refreshments. She turned to Sundown and whispered, "I'm heading to the snack bar. Want me to get you something, a soda or some popcorn?"

"Maybe I'll have a regular Coke an' some nachos wit cheese on top," he whispered back. Lorna nodded and got up. But just as she left, she saw Crusher standing outside the theater, with a grimacing smile.

"Rock Crusher?" she cried. "How long have you been standin' out here?"

"Long enough to ask ya if you'd like to ditch this place and go wit me," Crusher answered.

She walked quickly to the snack counter, looking peeved. "Yer wastin' yer time, Crusher," she said. "I am here with someone else, and I intend to enjoy the night wit him."

"Aw, come on!" he replied following her. "What's that cowboy cop got that I don't?"

She stared at him, unfazed. "Fer starters, how 'bout looks that don't suggest he's slower an' dumber than a turtle?"

"Aw, you must've mistaken me fer my pal, Berserko." When they arrived at the snack bar, "Look, Lorna, I may not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I'm just a lil' bit smarter than he is. Just ask Big Boss."

Lorna turned to him, eyes widened. "Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, huh?" she repeated. "I'm rather shocked that yer vocabulary contains that word. D'ya even know what a chandelier is?" She quickly turned to the person at the counter. "I'll have two Cokes, one regular an' one diet, one medium nachos with cheese an' fer myself…" She was selectively examining the assorted candy bars. "…one Caramilk bar, one Nestle Crunch, one package of Reese's peanut butter cups, and one large bag of M&M's, please?" She retrieved a small purse and presented a twenty-dollar bill. "An' while yer at it, could you please do somethin' 'bout the man behind me? He seems a lil' lost." When her order was ready, Rock Crusher offered to carry it, but she refused.

"I ain't no weak woman, I can carry this myself, thank you!" she spat.

He followed her back to the theater, begging, "Aw, come on, just give me one chance. I may be a crook, but I'm really a nice guy."

"Ain't there a jailbreak movie playin' somewhere in the opposite wing?" Lorna replied.

Now, Crusher got down on his knees. "_Pleeeeeeeeeeease_? I promise I'll treat ya nice."

Lorna sighed and rolled her eyes. "Gee, Crusher, I didn't realize you were so dumb, you couldn't master the meanin' of the word, 'no,'" she said. "Look, I've made up my mind. Now kindly leave me alone." Just then, another patron opened the door for her, en route to the bathroom. She quickly walked inside.

Sundown was shocked by Lorna's wares upon receiving his nachos. "All that chocolate?" he whispered.

"I'm gonna be needin' this," she whispered. "That Crusher tried to hound me fer a date. What'd I miss?" Sundown quickly filled her in.

They spent the next hour concentrating on the movie, the heroine trying to romance each member of an outlaw gang to turn them into lawmen. Partway through viewing, Sundown put his arm around Lorna, and they were falling deeper in love along with the couple on the screen. When the movie was over, they walked out holding hands.

"Wasn't that so beautiful, Sundown?" Lorna asked. "Now if that sweet young lady could make a miracle like that, turning bad guys good, then maybe a handsome lawman like yourself can show an entire metropolis that your girlfriend is not a psychotic widow."

"Darlin', I promise I'll do anythin' you ask me to help ya prove that," he replied.

They noticed Rock Crusher leaving the mini-food court, just across from the snack counter. He headed directly for the couple. "So, Lorna, you still won't change yer mind and dump the cowboy cop fer me?" he asked.

Sundown and Lorna ignored him as they left the movie theater.

"So yer not even gonna answer me?" Crusher asked as he followed them to Sundown's truck. "C'mon, I don't turn ya off that much, now do I? Ya know, I've been pretty lonely since that Valerie lady threw me an' the other guys over. I don't deserve that. You know you can do better than those C.O.P.S. who keep buggin' us. So what d'ya say?"

Sundown became annoyed as he escorted Lorna into the truck. "Can't ya take a hint from the lady, Crusher?" he bellowed. "Buzz off before I git Bulletproof on the horn an' have ya thrown to the hoosegow!" He got in himself and drove off quickly.

Lorna was fiddling with the radio knobs, trying to find a certain country radio show. "Got a station that play slow songs all evenin'?" she wondered. "I sure could use somethin' mellow."

* * *

When he completed his first day of community service the next day, Bowzer drove directly to Debra's house. It was a quarter to six, and he saw some trick-or-treaters whom were already active on Debra's street. 

He rang the doorbell and was happy to see Debra, as well as Emma wearing a long pink dress and princess hat, carrying a treat bag. He smiled at the girl and said, "Well, somebody's ready for trick-or-treating."

"Stephanie will be just a few minutes," Debra said. "She's getting her costume ready as we speak. And the girls have eaten already, so you don't have to worry."

They saw some cars pull up alongside the front curb. Two witches – one with green hair, one with red hair – getting out, as well as a clown, a ghost, another princess, and a child dressed as a tiger. Debra held the door open for them, but they all greeted her with, "Trick or treat."

She let them all in, just as Stephanie arrived in her costume, with her Halloween bag. The green-haired witch, the clown and the ghost all greeted Stephanie, as the other three were talking excitedly with Emma.

Debra quickly interrupted them by saying, "Everyone, settle down, please! Why don't you all gather together and introduce yourselves to Bowzer here?"

Stephanie did so, then introduced the witch, the clown and the ghost, respectively. "This is Jamie, Rebecca and Eric. Everyone, this is Mom's friend, Bowzer. He's from this really cool police team, C.O.P.S."

"What?" Eric replied. "Mrs. Janeway is dating an actual member of C.O.P.S.? That is so cool."

Emma then introduced the other witch, the princess and the tiger. "Bowzer, meet Natalie, Sarah and Leigha."

Out of curiosity, Bowzer asked lowly, "Debra, when did _you_ meet these kids?"

"Emma has invited her friends over here to play regularly," Debra replied. "Stephanie had Jamie and Becky over here to dinner less than a month ago, and she and Eric were seen playing computer games here. Don't worry, they're perfectly harmless. Now remember the plan – you're with Stephanie's group and I have Emma's group."

"Right," he agreed. "I was thinking we can split up, you go down the street one way, and I go down the other. If you can turn onto a street with more houses, you can. I'll have Stephanie and her friends cross the street to do the houses on the other side, then turn on a street."

"All right," Debra agreed.

"I'll bet my friends get more candy than your friends," Emma challenged.

Stephanie grinned back at her. "You're on."

Everyone left the house then. While Debra would go up walkways and front porches with Emma's group, Bowzer would stay at driveways while Stephanie and her friends. Whenever they spotted an unlit house, they encouraged the children to keep walking. Bowzer became extremely nervous as he approached Rhonda's house, thinking of what he did to Valerie. If Rhonda was at the door, she'd be disgusted to see him. Perhaps he should stand on the other side of the front lawn, and make himself invisible while Stephanie was getting candy and UNICEF money. He turned his back away from the house and tried to act cool.

As Rhonda was giving the children candy, she happened to spot the back of Bowzer's head. She winced and said, "Oh my God, is that Bowzer with you kids?"

"Uh, yeah it is, why?" Stephanie answered.

"That man has the nerve to show his face on my street after what he did to my sister!" Rhonda spat. "Unless he's on his way to shaping up, I hope he isn't with any one of your mothers. If they decide to juggle him with other men, he just may get vicious if he gets the short end of the stick!"

Stephanie decided to keep her mouth shut, not tell her that he was friendly with her mother. She just said, "Thank you," and they left.

She called to Bowzer at the end of the driveway. "That woman at the door seems to know you," she said. "What's this about you and her sister? What did you do that made her so mad?"

He groaned loudly, uncomfortable at the thought of telling her something so mature. "I'll have your mother tell you when your older, okay, Stephanie?" he replied. "Let's carry on." He thought of Rhonda's son, Caleb, then, and wondered if he was in the neighborhood somewhere. They've interacted somewhat around Valerie a few times. Perhaps that boy would recognize him.

Meanwhile, Debra was turning onto Channing Street with Emma and her friends. They started with the houses on the right side of the street. About halfway through, they came to an unfamiliar white house with orange, black and white streamers on the tree in the front yard, glowing ghosts and goblins in the living room window, and various jack-o-lanterns shaped like various scary monsters and aliens. Sarah rang the doorbell, and just as the girls were ready to say "Trick or treat," Debra noticed Dr. Badvibes at the door, dressed like a mad scientist seen in various horror movies.

"Dr. Badvibes!" she cried. "I thought you criminals were supposed to stay in your homes with the lights out on Halloween."

"Really now, who do you think I am?" Dr. Badvibes replied as he put candy in treat bags. "I'm only trying to hand out Halloween cheer to children. It's my civic duty, is that so wrong?" Soon, Buzzbomb joined him and he was bleeping love towards all the girls. He opened his arms for free hugs.

"Girls, don't touch that robot!" Debra warned. "Why don't you all thank the nice man, then wait for me at the driveway?" The girls all nodded and obeyed her, leaving quickly.

"Nice man," Debra repeated. "I can't believe I said that about you, Badvibes." She noticed him gazing at her lovingly. "And what in hell are you doing?"

"I'm just curious to know if you're doing this alone," he answered.

"I'm not," she answered. "I have Bowzer working somewhere in the neighborhood with Stephanie and her friends. If you're asking me to come in for a few minutes, the answer is no. I have a route to finish with these girls, and we're going back out for another route later on."

"Still with that copper, are you?" Dr. Badvibes replied. "A man who'll just bore you to death with stories of all those captures he's had?" He stepped out of his house. "Wouldn't you rather go out with someone who'll show you a real good time?"

"Why, so you can bore me to death by talking about your favorite articles from _Popular Science_ over dinner, followed by a boring-ass _Star Wars _marathon? I'd sooner shove rubber bullets up my nose."

Dr. Badvibes folded his arms and glowered. "Don't try to dodge me, Debra dear. I know you professional-looking single mothers, always trying to prove yourselves to society that you can have it all, enough money to support the children and enough time to spend with them all at once. I really admire women of your position. You need a man of brilliance, a scientist like myself. I can teach your children all they'll need to know about the sciences so they can at least have lucrative careers at NASA."

Debra sighed and replied, "Okay, maybe I'm not the socialite you didn't believe I was earlier. But I _am_ a police widow, and am deciding to marry another officer. My eldest daughter wants to be a cop like my husband was, and she wouldn't be happy if she knew I was dating a known criminal. And if assumption serves me correctly, this Big Boss you're supposedly working for is probably dangerous and criminal as you are. Don't think I've forgotten that confrontation you had with Bowzer. I'll have you know that he's told me all about your criminal ways as soon as we got home from that walk." She turned and noticed kids were passing this house, so she concluded her speech. "So please understand that I'm not the slightest bit interested in you or your robot. Now I want you to go away, leave me alone, and get me out of your thoughts completely."

She turned and walked away quickly. But as soon as she got onto the driveway, she turned back and added, "And please lock your door, turn off your lights and put your candy away! Children shouldn't be anywhere near you. You're no different than a sex offender! If Bowzer and Stephanie were to see you, I'm sure they'd arrest you on sight! Especially Stephanie when you look at _her_ costume!" This prompted a mother to make her children pass the house as well.

"Don't think I can't look you up in the phone book, or reach information for your number!" Dr. Badvibes called. "I'll make you mine yet!"

Debra ignored him as she gathered up her group and continued. She felt like turning back to swear at him, but she couldn't do that around a group of eight-year-olds.

Emma was telling her friends, "That's the same man that Mom, Bowzer and I met on our walk a few nights ago. He's really scary and weird-looking."

"Yes, Emma, he _is_ scary and weird-looking, isn't he?" Debra agreed. She pointed at the opposite side of the road. "Your sister and Bowzer will likely start here on that side. If we meet, I'm telling him exactly what happened. God, but why didn't we think to bring along a cell phone?"

When Debra's group was on the other side, she and Bowzer met at the house directly across from Dr. Badvibes. She pointed at the house, which was still lit, and they saw the mad scientist still handing out candy. She told him about how he tried to ask her out, and convince her to leave Bowzer for him.

The K-9 officer sighed unhappily and turned to Stephanie. He said, "Stephanie, we are _passing_ that house when we get over to that side, understand?" Then he said to Debra, "Deb, if you can keep what you said fresh in your mind until the trick-or-treating is done, we'll go down to C.O.P.S. headquarters afterward and report this to Bulletproof. This is crazy!"

"Sounds good," she agreed, then they kissed quickly and continued on. "I'll see you back at the house!" She said nothing as the girls continued getting their treats, still thinking about the unexpected confrontation.

* * *

Meanwhile, Nightshade had spent just a little over a week recovering from Mace's romantic ties with Cheryl. She never bothered with Halloween this year, just remained in her barely-lit apartment all night, watching a "girl movie," the end table lamps in the living room being the only light. She got enough courage to dial information and ask for Cheryl's phone number two days ago. 

She called around five times in the past two nights, and her children answered four of those times. Each time, they said the same thing: "Mom's out with Mace tonight." The third and fourth time, she swore she heard Danielle saying something snarky to her. Something like, "Listen, bitch, I'm not going to tell Mom you called if you're trying to harass her. If you call here again, I'm going to get Mace to have his C.O.P.S. team arrest your ass!" The fifth time, she got Cheryl's answering machine, so she shouted into it, "Cheryl Raleigh? Bitch, this is Nightshade calling. Listen, I know you must be around somewhere, and I know for a fact that you have the love of my life, Mace! Give me a call at 565-0880. We need to talk, you cop-chasing slut!"

She called the house again tonight, eleven at night. She had to be at home, all the trick-or-treaters were at home in their beds at this time. She imagined Mace and Cheryl already having sex on her living room couch as the phone rang. But just after the third ring, she saw Cheryl's image on the video screen.

"Is this Cheryl Raleigh?" Nightshade spat.

"Well, hello to you, too," Cheryl replied. "Let me guess, you must be Rafaella Diamond, the one they call 'Nightshade.' My kids gave me four messages from you, and you left one nasty message on my machine that I thought was so rude, I never bothered returning it."

"Don't get smart with me, slut," Nightshade blasted. "I heard from Ms. Demeanor that you were seen at some club with my man – _my _man – and she showed me video of the two of you dancing on her cell."

"Yes, that was us," Cheryl bragged. "And just in case you're wondering, he's over here right now. We brought my boys, Jacob and Brett, back from trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. Danielle's at a Halloween party sleepover at a friend's house. The boys are in bed now and Mace and I are all alone. In fact, he was in the middle of fucking me when you called."

"You fucking little _bitch_!" Nightshade screamed. "I'll have you know that Mace was in love with me long before he even knew you existed!"

"Gee, your language really doesn't match your classy look," Cheryl replied. "And yes, Mace told me all about that fake-ass romance that he shared with you. You're a cat burglar, right? And he's a member of the SWAT team. Talk about a really bad crossing of the stars. But hey, at least Juliet was never into stealing jewelry when Romeo met her."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Nightshade shook her head to get the next negative thought eradicated. "Listen, you non-charging whore, I still love Mace more than you'll ever care to know. We had history! We were going to get married! An actual wedding and everything! I believe in fighting to get what I want, and believe me, Mace will be mine once again! The only reason why he's not budging is because he let his damn C.O.P.S. team persuade him that I've gone back to my old cat burglar ways. He refuses to see a changed woman! And if _you_ hadn't come around and interfered–"

"And speaking of stars crossing," Cheryl added, "I've seen mismatched couples on soap operas that had more chemistry than you and Mace ever had. Somehow, I just don't see that old flame rekindling. Look, you may have pulled this off with his last girlfriend, from what I heard, but you're not going to get past me. I'm too smart to swallow your bullshit. You and Mace were long over before I came into his life, and he has no more interest in you. Learn to take 'no' for an answer, girlie. Now please hang up and don't dial again." She clicked off the screen.

Infuriated, Nightshade slammed down the phone and went to the bathroom to scream. When she came out, she said to herself, "Why doesn't that stupid bitch get her own cop?" She retrieved a two-litre pail of chocolate chip mint ice cream and went back to living room to console herself. She was inwardly blessed that the current scene in the movie wasn't a love or kissing scene. She'd hate to throw anything at the television.


End file.
